The Cargo Cult Revival is a weird band. Not weird in the sense of being wildly experimental--they're essentially plying their craft within a dependable guitar-based post-rock frame, plus a cello and some tendencies toward the more metal-ish side of the spectrum -- but weird in the sense of possessing a sound that seems a bit untethered from any of the prevailing instrumental trends. The influences might not be out of this world, but the way that things come together is consistently unpredictable.

The martial opening rhythms of opener "Divine Machine" lead me to expect stiff-kneed, slightly jaunty math rock, but the staccato stabs of cello soon give way to a lead melody that's pure baroque pop, before, around the 1:50 mark, everything suddenly becomes a wash of slow, pounding guitars and atmospheric instru-metal, and then back to the beginning. The different sections all flow into each other better than I can describe, but the effect is still strange -- only the sense of humor evident from the beginning foreshadows the 90 degree turns that epitomizes the band's songwriting style. The song winds on a bit long for its own good, returning to the same epic refrain a few too many times, before disintegrating and fading into "Whiskey and Hookers" which opens up with. . . baroque pop. I mean "pop" in the sense of melody: there are no vocals here -- but still, something about these sections, which would probably sound at home on an Andrew Bird album, just isn't jiving with the rest of the band's sound for me. It's all well done, but I'd prefer something with some more cohesion.

Which brings me to the meat of the album: the 38 minute title track. Things begin much more atmospherically here, and the songwriting approach is more slow-build than the previous two (although there are still some pretty noticeable shifts in gear). There's nothing as overtly wacky as on the first few songs, but there are two issues here -- first, the more straightforward parts resemble run-of-the-mill instru-metal; second, the less extreme changes in direction still manage to derail the song from maintaining any sort of coherent identity -- it basically sounds like a bunch of parts of songs, some of them quite interesting, thrown together into one monster, undifferentiated mass. There's plenty of ambition to be found in The Cargo Cult Revival's approach, and a fair amount of talent too, but not much restrained songwriting. This sort of reckless abandon can work for a select few, but alas, Shining they are not.

The cavernous stoner riffing of closer "Bastard Son" is easily my favorite part of the album, and it leaves me with the hope that The Cargo Cult Revival will play to their strengths next time out and not try so hard to be so many things. I'm curious about what they'll come up with in the future, but I hope they focus more on the promise of this track, which, after fifty-some minutes of directionless, if interesting, marathons, distills itself down to its essence and kicks out the jams. It sounds like Clutch gone prog, with a cellist, and it works -- more like this, please.

-Lucas Kane