Colin Meloy's epic ornithophiliac triptych gets off to a rockin' start. But it drags, it's pretentiously out-of-order (in addition the normal baseline of Decemberists pretension), and what's up with combining parts one and two into a single track? Do the Decemberists really think they're going to single-handedly turn the tide against the ipodification of their industry? Cause, uh, they won't, regardless of how many Japanese birdfucking myths they reference. And given that, I'd prefer that they stop screwing up my meticulous playlist management.
This is totally true, but it's also bullshit. It is the very ipodification of the music realm that prevents the album's flaws from being a real problem. I find the 12:26, three song second track really annoying so I skip it when it comes on. The rest of the album is all very good and, thanks to "Sons & Daughters," I now really want to go build an aluminum house somewhere with plenty of room for my cinnamon storage. If you find yourself in the position of a Tom or a Catherine who can't find any new albums you like these days, you ought to consider the possibility that you're getting old and cranky.