THE KING IS DEAD

To tell the truth I hadn't been thinking about the Decemberists' latest studio album much these past few months. Like many fans I anxiously awaited its release following a stunning 'The Hazards of Love' album and extensive supporting tour (of which I was fortunate enough to catch the Kansas City date). And I was a bit surprised by the lack of a central theme and stripped-down arrangements compared to the previous three records. But really the sound isn't all that different from the group's first two studio works, and let's be honest ? this is an indie band at heart despite the impressive ambition shown in their songwriting and lyrical themes.

Most artists seem to find their way back to their musical 'roots' at some point. Whether it's Joe Jackson cranking out modernist classical compositions or Rod Stewart lobbing R&B covers like a skeet-shoot machine or even the Boss taking time out from his perpetual celebrity to interpret a baker's dozen of Pete Seeger folk standards, musicians seem to have a penchant for nostalgia once they've managed to establish themselves in their own right. The fact that the Decemberists managed to score their first and only #1 album doing so is really just a bonus.

But Colin Meloy's announcement in last week's Rolling Stone (#1127) that the band will take an indefinite hiatus following their current tour really threw me for a loop. And after hearing he's focusing on cranking out a couple children's books with his wife Carson Ellis (the Canadian artist who produced all the band's album covers) as well as some plans to collaborate on a cartoon film with Ellis and possibly some musical theater work; well, it's rather obvious Mr. Meloy has more likely just been bitten pretty hard by domesticity of the artistic sort.

And this certainly isn't a new phenomenon. John Lennon turned into a veritable lap- husband after hooking up with Yoko Ono. Ritchie Blackmore abandoned metal for Renaissance folk after Candice Night got her hands on him. More recently (and closer to the indie world) Dawn McCarthy hitched up with Nils Frykdahl (Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, Idiot Flesh) and turned him into a freak folker accompanying her in Faun Fables. The two of them of late have dialed down the touring schedule considerably and focused more on their growing family than on music.

This isn't to say Ms. Ellis is another Yoko; far from it, I think the latest chapter in the Meloy/ Decemberists saga is being scripted heavily by Colin himself. And given his connection to literature is as strong as to music (he majored in English in college and his sister is also a writer), his current interests make sense for a thirty-something guy with family obligations and a child to raise.

But due to this turn of events I find myself listening to these songs in a completely different light now. Certainly Meloy discovered a stash of Levon Helm records somewhere along the line, and has definitely taken more of an interest in American folk history of late than the British sort that seemed to bring most of his inspiration on the first five records. But more importantly he has become pragmatic in his songwriting, putting together ten tunes that each stand on their own and can live on through radio as easily as on the stage as might be his wont over the next few years. For that I give him a nod of admiration and respect.

But at the same time I can't avoid a melancholy feeling from the bleating harmonica on tracks like "Don't Carry it All", or the gentle 12-string of "January Hymn", or the sappy steel guitar of "Dear Avery" and "Rise to Me". This record feels more like a tearful farewell than it does an Americana throwback album, and I'm going to miss these guys if they disappear altogether in the coming years.

At least if that happens they can say they went out on top, scoring an improbable but well- deserved #1 album after a decade perfecting their affected charm through energetic touring and debate-inducing studio releases. I hope there's a comeback in the near future, but if not ? what a way to go out!

peace