The Decemberists Short-Change Lyrics on Latest

“The King Is Dead” is as close as the Decemberists will come to writing a Taylor Swift album. It marks a return to rootsy, American folk and rock for the Portland quintet, whose previous works swung loosely from soft alternative to indie folk to haunting classical baroque. It delivers the clean, affirming satisfaction of a great pop-rock album—but it fails to enthrall or captivate, lacking the transcendent lyrical force that made the Decemberists’ previous work exceptional.

A focus on lyrical content has always been at the core of the Decemberists’ unique musical identity. Over all of their previous five LPs, frontman Colin Meloy has emerged as a lyrical visionary, equal parts Bruce Springsteen and Shakespeare. He has made the band’s name—spinning complex, fairytale epics and wildly varied character sketches with a command of language and metaphor as thrilling as the stories they present. The Decemberists support their exceptional lyrics with strong musicianship, and they capably blend a multitude of styles to create robust backdrops for their tales. However, it was always the lyrics that carved out the band’s exceptional niche in indie rock.

“The King Is Dead” gets a fair amount right, but it falters in diluting the band’s usual focus on lyrical mettle. Often, the content is lacking—abstract pieces like “Rise To Me” and “This Is Why We Fight” find the band emphasizing the music over their lyrical strength, replacing Meloy’s thrillingly convoluted poetry with simple rhymes and uninventive phrases like “I am going to stand my ground / You rise to me and I’ll blow you down.”

Unsurprisingly, the album’s most engaging tracks are marked by a return to strong lyricism. “January Hymn” and “June Hymn” are beguiling, deceptively simple stories of lost love and domestic life; “Rox In The Box” lets its humorously bitter sketch of Montana coal miners drive the track. Meloy makes use of his extravagant lexicon on “Calamity Song,” lashing out gleefully with obtuse poetry like “And the Panamanian child / Stands at the dowager empress’s side.”

These songs that show off Meloy’s songwriting are in the minority on the album, and “The King Is Dead” too often lets its accesible music interfere with their lyrics. The result is the band’s richest, most confident and most enjoyable instrumental production, a smorgasbord of folksy anthems which fuse strident harmonica, acoustic strumming, punchy drums, and powerfully shimmering guitar. However, the music dominates most tracks, frequently appearing to be an attempt to make up for a lack of lyrical content.

The shift of focus from lyrics to music was not necessarily a bad choice—bands change, and a Decemberists’ album lacking their lyrical prowess might have remained strong had their musicianship only been as exceptional. Instead, they shortchange their signature lyricism, replacing it with music that, while accessible, is ultimately unable to fully compensate for what they gave up.

Pop sensibility rarely—if gloriously—surfaced in the Decemberists’ previous work, but “The King Is Dead” is full of pop-rock gold. The songs are built in sturdy simple rock formats that bare brilliantly catchy hooks and rise into confident, anthemic choruses. Unlike every Decemberists LP before it, “The King Is Dead” hits with a refreshingly simple gut satisfaction. Unfortunately, the Decemberists treat their lyrics almost as obstacles to this pop perfection, where their best songs combine their pop sensibilities with their distinctive lyrical style.

“The King Is Dead” is a pop gem with distinct Decemberists flair—the tracks that allow themselves to shine by maintaining focus on the Decemberists’ usual lyrical artistry while adding new pop-rock music elements are some of their best. Just as they add touches of unique intrigue to the album’s straight-forward pop appeal, though, those tracks are reminders of how much was sacrificed in the rest of the album. Even in creating a pop-rock delight of full, satisfying simplicity, the Decemberists need not have underdeveloped the lyricism that has always made them extraordinary.

—Staff writer Austin Siegmund-Broka can be reached at asiegemund-broka@college.harvard.edu.