American Water

American Water is one of the great roadtrip records, with its loafing, resplendent guitar lines reverberating from Odessa to Malibu. Though it's fundamentally westward bound, it still sounds like five guys-- two of which are indie heroes (David Berman and Stephen Malkmus)-- sequestered in a basement, churning out affable trots without any particular incentive. The guitar exchanges are as penetrating as Berman's wit and the rhythm section's obstinate blues ensures that nothing gets too maudlin. The solos, illuminating and serene, are played like they might actually be better than the songs themselves. With melodies and inflection cribbed from The Band and Abbey Road, it's like Berman's vocals are crossing the country in a car fueled by wah-wah pedals, honky-tonk, and endlessly bent strings.
They're staggering songs, and it's a shame Berman had to go and write lyrics that were even better to distract us from them. He delivers his lines like someone reduced to monotony because he's felt so many emotions he can barely summon enough effort to express them anymore. His loitering, sing/speak offers blatant rebel posturing ("I am the trick my mother played on the world"), stoned observations ("My ski vest has buttons like convenience store mirrors"), and genuinely affecting romance ("Before I go I gotta ask you, dear, about the tan line on your ring finger"). It's probably the most charismatic band no one listens to, making an album it takes years to hear because you just keep endlessly repeating the first song. --Alex Linhardt