My Possibly Helpful, Definitely Personal Review of "What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World"
(yes, I listened to the album on Spotify, I know, I know) So, I just finished listening to the Decemberists' new album, "What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World." The short version, the 'too long; didn't read' version of this post equates to this: find the album, find a quiet place (a library, a hilltop, a bedroom with friends), and just listen straight through. The long version goes like this:
The argument has been made by many, including myself at one time or another, that Colin Meloy is a silly and grandiose writer. Who actually wants to listen to a song about a French Legionnaire pining for home, or a song about one boy's revenge at sea (with whale interruption), or a song about any number of seemingly un-relatable things? They're all kickass songs, sure, but why write them in the first place if not just to show off your own vocabulary and knowledge of obscure things, right? I will counter that argument with a personal experience, because this is what I do.
Growing up, I read a lot. Duh. Most of my friends did, most of the people able to read this post did, whatever, right? The thing is, as a result of that, I have always had a very big vocabulary and a very weird communicative filter. When I speak, I want to say the Right Thing and I want to say it in the Right Way with the Right Words, because if I don't, then I have to deal with the conversational repercussions of being misunderstood (ie. a really dumb and pointless and awkward side-conversation) which, with most people, just isn't worth the time wasted for either of us. So I always try to use the most accurate words I know, but of course this leads to situations where I use Big Words when most normal-ish people could just use a few Small Words and get the same point across because that's how communication and language interpretation work. Thus, throughout a looooooot of my early school years up until college, most (I'm using the word "most" a lot, aren't I?) other students wondered why I always used such Big Words all the time, as if I consciously decided to sound like a pompous ponce all the time.
Which brings us back around to the new Decemberists album. People call out Colin Meloy for being pretentious, for using big words in a cultural (and musical) landscape that tends to favor personal (usually boastful and/or trite) stories with personal (again, usually boastful and/or trite) language. And until this album, I had a bit of the same opinion of the man and the band, even though he is such an incredible influence on my art and life. The music is great, but it's kind of pretentious (such an ugly word, isn't it?) that he doesn't sing about more personal stuff with a more personal voice. I think I can say without hyperbole (or at least without more than a normal pinch of hyperbole) that the new album has absolutely opened/re-opened my eyes about the Decemberists' music. It's always been incredibly personal. It's always been Meloy's personal voice, his personal words, because, much like me (projection much?), he has a big vocabulary and can't help but use it all the time.
The songs on the new album are probably the most personal they've ever been, about true longing and nostalgia for youth ("Lake Song," "The Wrong Year," "Philomena"), love and worry with the growth of a family ("Make You Better," "Better Not Wake the Baby," "12/17/12"), and trying to cope with the niche that's been dug out for you by the public and yourself ("The Singer Addresses His Audience," "Cavalry Captain," "Anti-Summersong"), to name the most notable themes. What makes them truly special is that the lyrics all have the same big Meloy vocabulary that the band has always showcased. Sure, there have been plenty of flashes of personal stories throughout the Decemberists' discography. Hell, I just covered one such song last week! "What A Terrible World, What A Beautiful World" is unique in that it is so personal all the way through that it makes me realize how personal the songs have been all along. Colin Meloy isn't flipping through the OED every second of songwriting, he's just writing with the only voice he has. If you've listened to even one of my own songs, or looked at even one of my writings, I think you can tell how important that realization is to me in particular.
Hm. I don't know what else I can say beyond all that, other than that I hope this helps you know a little bit more about the Decemberists, about me, about music, or just about whether you actually want to pick up this album. If I've succeeded on any of those counts, I will call this post an overall success and be glad that I have reached you, dear reader of verbose posts, on some level. If not, meh. At any rate, thank you for reading, and I will leave you some completely un-helpful scores:
Tilapia out of Five Stars. @ / 25. 16+. Rated A for Accordion.
~Dingo <3
