Good things come and go like bad things. Tell me about it. I write music reviews. Good albums come in the mail just as frequently as bad albums, and almost all are lost to the sketchily alphabetized shelves of my music collection. It's a shame though, that the album's title is so wrought with the depressingly existential commentary about the fleeting nature of all things, because I was going to recommend picking this one up and leaving it in the CD player for a long, long time. Now, having dwelled on the implications of its title for a week, I'm not so sure… about anything anymore. Damn this album title!

((Sounder)) is the California/ATX-based musical companionship of Steve Stratton and Mike Aho, a visual artist originally from Austin, who works predominantly on non-musical projects, including his own art, the artistic department of Volcom (their entertainment label put out this album), as well as a video for Bonnie "Prince" Billy. As much as I hate the "his music is like a painting" analogy, it's somewhat applicable here (after all, Aho is an artist), as many of the songs on their sophomore LP seem to rise out of a loose organization of sounds, sometimes rigid enough to make a solid pop song, other times mere chaos.

For what is by literal definition an "art music" band, many of the songs, especially in the first half, show surprisingly intelligent pop sensibilities, at least as much as "art music" can. "Those Days Were Good Days (As Days Sometimes Are)" (I won't comment on the title) rushes along to driving toms, acoustic guitars, and the continual addition of instruments. The song shakes and rattles dangerously along with the vocals like my '94 Grand Cherokee passing 50mph, closing in on a climax that never quite comes as Aho's chanting breaks into a guitar solo and fadeout. "Oh River" calms things down/drones on for a couple of minutes before pushing the needle on the extreme-o-meter, rasping out through his now rickety voice lines like "Burry us up to our necks, we're stuck where we already wait."

While most of the songs are solid jams in their own right, the album's high points come when Aho is pushing his voice, and the entire ensemble, to its limits; the sound of a band literally on the edge of falling apart is compelling in this context, especially when the lyrics are as desperate as the music itself. ((Sounder))'s world, the kind that gives rise to a title that's only a couple steps further from Bukowski than Modest Mouse, is a bitter acceptance of some of the harsher realities of life. Lyrics like "Things are gonna get worse, before they get worser" and "Fuck this heaven, this ain't heaven, this is hell you'll say, while the angel-white clouds turn to gray / and the harp player packs her bags, while the glow from your halo starts to flicker, like convenient store lighting" cut through even the catchiest of melodies with stark cynicism, and make even the most boring songs seem compelling.

The lyrics can be at times overly sentimental, almost kitschy, but even that is a facet of the desperation that marks the entire album. The lyrics, on a whole though, are insightful, reflecting a desolate view of a existence that is all too easily accepted, if only because it's all all too logical. After that, the equally compelling musical arrangements is only extra credit. Now, under normal circumstances, this is where I'd hint that you go pick this album up, but I guess, in the end, nothing really matters… I want to be alone.

- John Michael Cassetta