THE HAZARDS OF LOVE

I’ve been trying to write a review of this album for some time now; wanting to give it the eloquent and well-crafted literary praise it deserves considering the careful crafting that went into making it. But alas, nothing but writer’s block for me these past several months, something the Decemberists’ bookish band leader Colin Meloy most certainly did not experience when he sat down to pen this modern rock opera. To be more precise, he meant it to be a theatrical musical at first, something that was pretty evident when I saw the band perform the album in its entirety back in May.

The one thing I can say with certainty is that this album has spoiled for me, perhaps permanently, the entirety of the band’s back catalog. I first fell under their spell with the fresh and captivating ‘Castaways and Cutouts’ a few years ago; nine musical vignettes that, while macabre at times, revealed a literature and history nerd in all his dweebish glory. Tacked on at the end (“California One Youth and Beauty Brigade”) was the foundation of what would become an impressive string of Decemberists trademark songs; a composition that managed to inject just enough seventies and prog influences to capture one’s attention, while avoiding the overbearing weight of the progressive rock tomes that helped bring about the demise of the genre circa 1973 or so. Original, entertaining and respectful of the listener’s intelligence – what more could you want?!

The next couple of albums seemed to hover just below the surface of musical genius, with Meloy working hard to perfect his skills at penning thoughtful character sketches and impossible rhymes (who rhymes “fodder” and “daughter” and gets away with it anyway?). At the same he tended to play it safe on the musical side, combining his nerdy tenor with catchy acoustic guitar chords, thick Hammond bleats and a seemingly endless stream of harmonizing female foils, a trait that dates back to his days fronting his Montana college band Tarkio. All great stuff, but in retrospect not much more than very astute indie pop once you peeled away the captivating stories sitting atop the music. Sure, there were the occasional glimmers of greatness, including the epic-length and musically mature EP ‘The Tain’; the band’s signature modern folk tune “The Mariner's Revenge Song”; and the understated and underappreciated “The Infanta”. But mostly the band’s albums left me wanting more and not quite getting it. With ‘The Crane Wife’ the band got halfway there, weaving an obscure folk tale into a three-part and undeniably progressive epiphany; at the same time though, there wasn’t quite enough there for an entire album, and the band was left to layer in several interesting but unrelated bits to fill the whole thing up. Close, but not quite there once again.

Somewhere along the line I also picked up their DVD and realized quite quickly that this is a band that is at their best in front of a live audience, a conviction reinforced when I became part of that audience with the release of ‘The Hazards of Love’. In the end, the thing that makes this band work is that they are just flat-ass entertaining! And on that note, I can honestly say I’ve never seen a more eclectic mix of personalities, social classes, blends of generations and frankly such a geekish but well-mannered audience as I did at that concert. And nobody passed out drunk or started a fight, as near as I could tell. Can’t think of the last time I saw that at a concert.

Anyway, like I said all those old albums are now on the back of my shelf. Hopefully not permanently, but definitely at least for a while. This one takes the cake for now at least. The Decemberists have finally managed to put together a true musical epic, nearly flawless from start to finish, just the way they delivered it to our ravenous live audience back in May. We cheered together in shared happiness for Margaret as she was poetically deflowered by her beastly lover; worried for her as she faced the sobering reality of the morning after:

“And when young Margaret's waistline grew wider, The fruit of her amorous entwine inside her;

And so our heroine withdraws to the Taiga!”

And we collectively shuddered at the evil and boorish Queen, who set upon the young lovers like a modern-day Wicked Witch of the West while at the same time marveling at Shara Worden’s powerful pipes and magnetic presence. The studio version does her no justice by the way, and I have no doubt there is a DVD for somewhere along the band’s tour forthcoming. When it comes out – BUY IT!

Every rock opera needs a pinnacle, and the band delivers to expectations with the thundering and drum-driven “The Rake's Song”, a despicable horror of infanticide and depravity that somehow manages to get your toe-tapping anyway; damn that Meloy for dragging us all to Hell!

In the ensuing madness of our young lovers’ impending demise comes an absolutely lovely acoustic folk ballad bemoaning the ‘Annan Water’ that both separates the two lovers, and promises to be their undoing. As an aside, this is not a new musical theme, something my fellow Montanan Colin Meloy is undoubtedly well aware of. Johnny Preston first presented the tale of two young beaus split by a cursed river and meddling parents and who ended up perishing in that same river ("Running Bear" in 1959 – look it up). This was a big hit in the American Northwest and I’ve no doubt Meloy’s parents had the 45rpm in their collection at some point in his childhood. But back to the album…

Toward the end the band does manage to indulge in a rather hackneyed rock opera cliché, the employment of a choir of children’s voices that is both gratuitous and unnecessary. But hey – the Rolling Stones got away with it, so que sera, sera.

Much like on the band’s debut with “California One…”, this one ends on a laconic and somewhat wistfully depressing downbeat, the anticlimactic “The Hazards of Love 4 (The Drowned)”. Our young lovers are gone, and along with them this absorbing and memorable tale. What a poignant and completely appropriate end to another Meloy- penned chronicle of The Struggle. And with a little pedal steel and synthesized strings that would have made Don Henley proud. Mushy and highly satisfying at the same time.

Every time I hear this band I see in my mind the concert on the band’s DVD, with Colin Meloy standing on a small wooden stage at the end of their 2005 tour in Portland, Oregon in his cheesy suit-jacket and big black birth-control inducing nerd glasses passionately bleating out his affirmation hymn “I Was Meant for the Stage”; a rejoinder written to his unapproving parents who never thought the guy would make it in the music business. Back in the seventies Foreigner’s “Juke Box Hero” and Ian Hunter’s “Irene Wilde” gave me the same sort of goosebumps. And that’s why I love these guys, no regrets and no apologies. These guys are destined for greatness if they manage to hold it together for a few more years at least, and I’ve no doubt that a decade from now this album will appear on many a ‘Greatest Rock Albums’ list alongside some of the other legendary rock operas in history. Take advantage of it now – you can say then that you knew this music ‘when’. A masterpiece by any definition as far as I’m concerned, and a solid five stars since that’s all I can give it. Turn it up to11 and don’t be afraid to sing along; your soul will appreciate the fresh air!

peace