On the Kingsbury Manx's 2000 self-titled debut, artist M. Scott Myers painted a house for the cover, set in the middle distance but crowded off to the side, overlooking a geometrically jagged shoreline. Nine years, four albums, and two labels later, Myers has painted his fifth Manx cover (sixth if you count the one for their 2003 EP Afternoon Owls), this time a photorealistic cathedral so gargantuan it can't all fit into the frame. This evolution from a house of man to a house of god is potentially misleading, as the North Carolina band has made no such spiritual or musical evolution. They've remained about the same size, picking up new tricks with every album but barely changing their approach at all. Sure, they were fuzzier and scratchier on middle child Aztec Discipline, but they soon abandoned that tack.
Not that they need to change things up all that much. Their shambling, subdued, sophisticated Southern folk-pop-- which is soft but never mellow, and uses slow tempos almost as a statement of defiance-- sprung forth fully formed in 2000, and since then they've explored different facets of that sound, turning it over in their hands to study every angle and possibility. On Ascenseur Ouvert!, their sound remains as durable, as engaging, and as immersive as ever, their lyrics gently witty and their arrangements subtly intricate. "I never walked on water but I keep my body dry," sings Bill Taylor on the loping opener "Walk on Water". "A dirty hand wipes dusty cobwebs from my eyes." That couplet, boosted by Ryan Richardson's harmonies, sounds crucial to the album: Perhaps it's an acknowledgment of the four long years between their last album and this one. Real life intrudes: There have been new babies, jobs that actually pay, moves, upheavals.
But those lines also suggest that the Kingsbury Manx know they have always flown under the radar, never even becoming indie big or internet famous. Their music is not flashy, but observant and adult, and Ascenseur Ouvert!, which is their first for Carrboro-based Odessa Records, may be their most engaging and cohesive album since their first, maybe their second. Perhaps the years away have sharpened their focus and made these recording sessions seem all the more do-or-die (another full circle: They recorded the album in Duck Kee Studio in Mebane, North Carolina, where they worked on their debut).
Ascenseur Ouvert! strikes their finest balance so far between sonics and songcraft. These are well-put-together compositions full of clever turns of phrase and crisp imagery. At times it sounds like a potential break-up album, juggling what-might-have-beens with what-really-went-downs. On "Mend/Move", the song with the most spring in its step tempo-wise, Taylor promises, "I'd never write a song just to try to poke fun at you/ No, I'd never do you wrong even though I'm all done with you." On the first few listens, that sounds like a diplomatic gesture toward an ex, but ambiguity rises with every listen: Does he even think she's worth writing about? Probably not, since he uses that dismissive phrase "I'm all done with you." Then again, he did write "Mend/Move." What sounds like a fond farewell turns out to be just a farewell.
The Kingsbury Manx wrap that and every other dodgy sentiment in music that sounds loose and casual despite its complexity, peppering the songs with inspired flourishes. A guitar zigs and zags jazzily throughout the strummy "Well, Whatever", the relatively naked "George Closing" is nothing but warm vocals and lonely piano, and "Over the Oeuvre" pauses for a short Beach Boyish vocal breakdown that shows off the band's lush harmonies. Their voices have always blended effortlessly, adding a distinctive element to their arrangements. In this regard, the loveliest and most inventive track on Ascenseur Ouvert! may be the vocal-heavy "Minos Maze", on which their wordless harmonies cascade over a soft bed of strings, synth tracers that shoot across the song. Its slow, patient tempo only reinforces the song's impact, allowing them to fully invest themselves in the moment. Often accused of sounding the same on every album-- as if reliability and focus were faults-- the Kingsbury Manx are really just watching the world speed up around them and refusing to change their pace to match.
