Ben Gibbard has returned from his electronic pop side project, the Postal Service, with a vengeance as pleasant as vengeance can sound. Washington state’s most beloved indie pop group (at least here at the Voice) has dropped an album that quietly surpasses their previous work with the same subdued, beautifully melodic songwriting that has won them a devoted fan base over their six years of existence. The band’s work still revolves around Gibbard’s intimate, thoughtful melodies, and they have settled gently into their trademark sound while remaining fresh and original.
The first tracks make for a slow start; the album’s first single and leadoff song “The New Year” starts off strong with crashing guitars and lyrical promise, but loses energy and grows tired of itself. “Lightness,” the second track, is probably the weakest song on the album, reminiscent of past work but lacking in any real power of its own.
Beyond “Title and Registration,” with lyrics poignant in their simplicity like “The glove compartment is inaccurately named/and everybody knows it,” the album is consistently rewarding. The blaring guitars and feedback of the standout track “Tiny Vessels” bring a bigger, more serious feel to the album, while “Passenger Seat” is typical of the sparse, exquisite songwriting that has always made Death Cab such a great band. The title track drags on too long without developing its melodic ideas, a criticism that could be equally applied to the first few songs, but “A Lack of Color” closes the album on a high note, reminiscent of the melancholy introspection of Bright Eyes.
The strongest song, however, is probably “We Looked Like Giants,” a powerful, evocative song of romantic exploration that testifies to the band’s ability to rock out as well as get intimate. There’s swirling guitars, simple but meaningful lyrics, thoughtful piano touches, and some pleasing electronic knob-twiddling weaving a background for it all. Here, it feels that Gibbard’s mighty talent is fully realized in all its aspects.
