In the past two years, The Decemberists have gone from unknowns outside their native Portland to success via critical praise, impressive sales, and packed houses. This is their fullest sounding release yet. They blaze through more instrumental variations than can be listed here, for a heightened urgency and depth to the sharply written lyrical scenarios.

"On [Her Majesty], the whimsy and multicolored narrative threads that represented the best of the Decemberists' terrific first album are given room to breathe." -- Magnet For all intents and purposes, Her Majesty is best described as the charming older brother to the band's previous outing. And, while being recognizably related to its sibling, it is an altogether different beast. Present and accounted for are the Victorian literary tropes, the rakish mariners, and the Dickensian downtrodden that slouched their way across the laser imprinted surface of Castaways and Cutouts. But on Her Majesty, a new cast of characters is introduced, giving further depth to the richly bizarre songcraft of the band's bespectacled leading player, Colin Meloy: an aristocratic Jewess slumming it blindfolded among the exotic avenues of a Chinese bazaar, the coifed and coked-up bon vivants of greater Los Angeles, the writer Myla Goldberg, and a pair of affectionate soldiers celebrating their camaraderie among the mortar blasts and trench mud of WWI Belgium. Musically, the band travels over new territory as well, mining deeper into their Beatle-pop influences to create a record that is as lush as it is intricate.

Capitol raised a few eyebrows when they signed indie stalwarts the Decemberists. There's nothing blatantly commercial about the Portland quintet, from Colin Meloy's quavery voice and hyper-literate lyrics to the band's wide-ranging music, which encompasses baroque pop, prog rock, and dozens of other styles. Then again, he did once sing, "I was made for the stage," and those who've seen the group live know this to be true. Sure, they're storytellers, but they're entertainers, too--just not in the Top 40 sense. Never ones to play it safe, their major label debut takes its inspiration from a Japanese folk tale. It travels from the Replacements-style balladry of "The Crane Wife 3"--which joins words like "Each feather it fell from skin/'Til threadbare while she grew thin" to the melody from "Here Comes a Regular"--to the ELP hoedown of three-part epic "The Island" to the haunting duet between Meloy and Laura Veirs on "Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)." It's an impressively eclectic effort that somehow manages to avoid sounding scattered. Co-produced by Chris Walla (Death Cab for Cutie) and Tucker Martine (the Long Winters), the Decemberists' fourth full-length is richer, less immediately catchy than its predecessor (there's nothing as bouncy here as Picaresque's "Sixteen Military Wives"). It's also a deeper work that resists snap judgments. Some records hit you over the head with their brilliance, others need time to percolate. Time will tell if The Crane Wife is the Decemberists' best album--it's certainly their most ambitious so far.

"Always the Bridesmaid: Volume I" is the first in a series of 12" color vinyl single releases from American indie rock band The Decemberists.

Holy crap, I cannot wait for this. You can just tell from the track list that it's gonna be friggin legendary. Also, The Rake's Song is totally rhombus. Only The Decemberists could put out a first single about infanticide. OH MY GOD, IT'S GONNA ROCK SO HARD.