Decemberists Take a New Approach to Song Crafting

In the world of modern music there are far too many artists who endeavor to write heart-wrenching songs, only to find that their best efforts can never produce something that rises above the undifferentiated mass of trite garbage we generously dub "pop" music. In a vain effort to create an original masterpiece these misguided souls plumb the depths of their own angst to create an autobiographical song that reflects just how hard it really is to be a rock star these days. There are two major flaws to this approach. First, every other guy out there with a guitar is doing exactly the same thing, and there are only so many ways to say, "breakups suck." Second, your average twenty-something with a guitar has never experienced a real relationship tragedy, so, barring an original approach to songwriting, the woe-is-me shtick isn't particularly moving.Thankfully there are a few acts that have realized the limits of the modern mournful love song, and have found creative solutions to the problem. One such band is the Decemberists, and their solution is elegantly simple: forget autobiography. When Shakespeare wrote "Romeo and Juliet" he wasn't writing about his own experience or even that of anyone he knew; he was engaging in pure fantasy (as well as borrowing from pre-existing traditions) in order to create a true romantic tragedy. Colin Meloy, the frontman for the band, takes much the same approach with his songwriting. Instead of bubble-gum songs about cheating girlfriends, he spins dark tales of prostitution, murder, and truly star-crossed lovers. Throw into the mix the Decemberists' unusual choice of instrumentation which can include accordion, acoustic bass, violin, and various pipes in addition to the standard rock instruments and you end up with a sound that comes across as an odd blend 19th and 21st century musical sensibilities. If you haven't heard them before, there is almost no way to adequately describe their style; think indie-pop meets drunken pirates and you'll be on the right track.

When given the chance to see them live, I jumped on the opportunity, hopped a bus for Philly and headed down to the Electric Factory, a venue somewhat larger in size than Hartford's Webster Theater. The opening act was the relatively unknown Cass McCombs, a three-piece group featuring acoustic guitar, electric bass, and a single hand drum. This isn't likely a name you'll see headlining a serious venue any time soon. The lack of energy during their set was palpable, and was no helped by the fact that all three band members were sitting for the duration of their performance. The lyrics were similarly uninspiring. Particularly notable in this regard was a song I can only assume was titled "A Friend of Mine." The chorus was a staggeringly unfortunate affair. After all, you can only hear someone gently croon, "A friend/ a friend/ a friend/ a friend/ a friend/ a friend/ a friend/ a friend of mine" so many times before you want to throw something at him. When that little gem was repeated a good 10 times over at the end of the song, said line was most certainly crossed.

Blessedly the set came to an end before too long. While the road crew began setting up for the headliner, the screens on the left wall of the venue flickered to life. Curiously, during the nearly 25 minute long inter-set break, the crowd was shown a WWF Royal Rumble that appeared to be out of the '80s. While pro-wrestling isn't my thing, seeing Andre the Giant throw people around like rag-dolls brought back memories of The Princess Bride. Coupled with the lack of any inane lyrics, it was a definite improvement over the 25 minutes allotted to the opening band.

When the house lights dropped again and Decemberists' guitarist Chris Funk ran onto stage banging a small suspended cymbal, the mood immediately shifted. Instantly the crowd realized that this set was going to be different - it was going to be filled with energy. It was going to be engaging. It was not going to make anyone regret the $15 they paid to get in.

As the other band members joined Funk on stage the crowd roared with approval, and were rewarded with "The Tain" a 5-part, 18-and-a-half minute epic. It was staggeringly well done. Not only were the vocal and instrumental performances true to album quality; the numerous instrument and role transitions required for such a complex piece were executed without a hitch.

The rest of the set was of similar impressive quality and covered the whole range of the band's catalogue, even going back to the original 5 Song E.P. for "My Mother was a Chinese Trapeze Artist," although the majority of the songs came from their latest (and best) album Picaresque. Particularly memorable was the performance of "We Both Go Down Together," which revolved around such dark lyrics as "Meet me on my vast veranda/ my sweet untouched Miranda/ and while the seagulls are crying/ we fall but our souls are flying," and a driving A-minor riff played jointly on guitar and violin. Breakups? Not so tragic. Death? Tragic.

Aside from the quality of the music, The Decemberists also have a penchant for showmanship. Meloy constantly bantered with the audience, and even climbed the stacks to reach the balcony seats at one point during the show. During the climactic "Mariner's Revenge Song" which closed out the set, they even got the audience to fully participate, from screaming on cue to dropping to the ground and playing dead at the appropriate moment. I can't recall ever seeing an audience as fully involved with the musicians as on that night at the Electric Factory.

While it would be hard for anyone in the north east to reach any of their remaining shows this year, anyone interested in seeing some great and innovative pop music would do well to get Decemberist tickets when they come around again in 2006. For an energetic, unusual, and fully engaging live set they're tough to beat.