There’s a delicate balance struck in the best writing between excessively stark and overly florid. In cinematography, there’s a tension between too dramatic and too impersonal. Visual art ranges between too inexpressively vague and disinterestingly matter-of-fact. In music, however, comes one of the thinnest wires to tread. All popular songs exist on a spectrum: at one end, there are the catchiest melodies whose lyrics are essentially meaningless — the “ra ra ah ah ah, ro ma romama”s of the world — and, at the other, are the Leonard Cohens, whose words are the true meaning, and whose tunes exist only as subtle enhancement of the written word underneath. It is in the center of this spectrum that the very best of popular music falls. Every musician, whether consciously or not, seeks to make a song such that the lyrics are enhanced by the music and vice-versa. The ones who succeed are the names probably most familiar to you — precious few artists are capable of passing with one or the other, and only then by the overwhelming merit of their one strength. Henry Jamison’s compositions straddle this line perfectly, creating an album in his Milkman’s Union’s Roads In that is both deserving of listen upon listen and which asks for it of its own musical merit.

It seems almost unfair to compare Roads In to his earlier works — indeed, based on the availability of the previous albums released under the name the Milkman’s Union (now no longer available on either CD Baby, the iTunes store, or Amazon), it would seem that he’s tried exactly to distance himself from those previous albums — and necessarily so, since both were released some 3 years ago, a significant chunk of lifetime to a 22-year-old. Yet it’s easy to assert that this is by far the most varied and mature work that Jamison has released, even without those previous points of comparison available to the hoi polloi. The songs are fantastically diverse, ranging between experimental and familiar, raw and polished.

The Milkman’s Union have created an album which is truly the best sort of collection of songs an album can be. Each is different than the previous, each leads elegantly into the next, each shows a band who have taken more time and energy into sculpting a fantastically finished product than most college groups would ever find or make the time for. (It should be noted that this, unlike previous “The Milkman’s Union” songs, represents the work of more than just Henry Jamison, but rather of 5 musicians, whose influence is undeniable when compared to the home recordings Jamison had previously released.) The result is so overwhelming that I almost feel as though each time I allude to the age of the band I do them a disservice, as I know well that each time age comes up it is read a compensation for a lack in something.

It really is in Jamison’s lyrics that the Milkman’s Union find what makes them as a band so undeniably well-rounded. He has certainly found the balance between florid and sparse, and does so in a way that’s delightfully witty and literate without much baggage of pretension. Yes, I could complain about how the instrumental “A Kidney for Bloom” comes off as a little show-off-y, but would anyone other than the son of a Joycean really find a bone to pick with a Ulysses reference, most of all having that bone be about how obvious the reference is?

There are lines scattered throughout Roads In that I keep returning to, or find myself thinking of in conversation. My favorite of these is probably “How many gentlemen does it take to screw you in?” a deft put-down from “Emerald Flares.” Another comes in “St. Petersburg,” where Jamison works in a pairing similarly shocking: “She has her way with words / and then she has her way with me.”

In my opinion, the album highlight comes in “America,” a song whose stark lyrics are perfectly counterpointed by the slow build of its instrumentation and harmonies. Its lines find a simple beauty in the mundane, and create a perfect nostalgia in few words:

It occurs to me that I am America

That I am your front yard, your tree

It occurs to me that I am America

and everything from sea to shining sea.

The fadeout from the radio broadcast into album-closer “Percy, Lost at Sea” create a mood more ideal than can be fully expressed in words, a perfect blend of all that the Milkman’s Union can do so well. It’s an ending that leaves the listener wanting more, and I’m sure I’m not alone in saying that the place the Milkman’s Union is in at this point in time ought to be good enough to get them wherever they might want to go.

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The Milkman’s Union – Roads In (YSI)

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The Milkman’s Union – St. Petersburg (YSI) (Download removed at band’s request. If you dig the stream, follow the links below and buy the damn thing.)

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The Milkman’s Union – America (YSI)

If there ever were an album truly worth buying (you know, as opposed to “acquiring”), this is it. Find it at CDBaby, iTunes or Amazon.

Also, The Milkman’s Union is currently touring the northeast, with dates in NYC upcoming. Check the dates out at their website.

Related posts:

1. The Milkman's Union: A Name Totally Un-pun-able
2. Rock and Roll; Complete Control — Vampire Weekend’s Contra in review
3. Cooler than Cornell, Hipper Than Brown, Less Fratty Than Dartmouth: The Ivy League's "The North Star" In Review