Focus: Codes and Keys by Death Cab for Cutie

Death Cab for Cutie last cruised around the block with 2008's chart-topper Narrow Stairs, a record that furthered the band's reputation for weaving together introspective ideas and themes of romantic unfulfillment using deep blue thread. Its more experimental sound rattled fans of Transatlanticism's acoustic beauty, but the dab of dissonance was a colorful addition to the band's sonic palette.

Musically, Codes and Keys picks up exactly where Narrow Stairs left off. Those familiar with the Death Cab discography will instantly recognize several songs fused with facets of their forebears, a hint of the bridge from "Death of an Interior Decorator" blended into "Monday Morning," and melodious vocal chants imported from "Soul Meets Body" to "St. Peter's Cathedral." That's not to diminish the overall sound; Death Cab is one of the few career bands of the modern era, and they helped found the indie pop empire in which they now prominently reside.

Consistency of sound aside, frontman Ben Gibbard's lyrics reflect the sense of vivacity and vibrancy that very well should accompany a marriage to Zooey Deschanel. Familiar concepts rooted in distance and disillusionment are prevalent but examined through a decidedly optimistic lens, and one can't help but envision his bride's shy smile tacitly indicting herself as the subject of feel-good closer, "Stay Young Go Dancing." This sung, by the way, by the same man who on 2006's Plans exclaimed, "Our youth is fleeting. Old age is just around the bend, and I can't wait to go gray."

These slices of melancholy were standard fare for Gibbard on Death Cab's 6 previous albums. How refreshing, then, that Codes and Keys sports the subdued smile of boy with a head full of rain finally jumping in the puddles.


9/10


Top Track: "St. Peter's Cathedral"
If televangelists could convey their theological philosophies with as much emotional panache as these guys, they'd be doing primetime. A tolling synth leads Gibbard in before drums, guitar, strings, and vocal parts add layering embellishments. The sonic snowball swells into a slowly rolling behemoth of near-Sigur Ros grandeur before abruptly fading like the simplest of reveries blinked instantly away. Undeniably a mood piece, but masterfully executed.