I thought I had been dragged to way too many Renaissance Fairs and war re-enactments as a kid to stomach Ann Arbor's resident folk historians the Great Lakes Myth Society. Even potentially worse, they sound equally excited to recount regional lore as the people who dress up like Robert E. Lee and Queen Elizabeth for a living. However, the band, which essentially consists of the Original Brothers and Sisters of Love lineup minus violinist Liz Auchinvole, manages to create songs that, while looking back to the past, boast their share of forward-thinking ideas.
You could argue that Sufjan Stevens' critically adored depictions of two major Great Lakes states should banish this band to obsolescence. However, whereas Stevens' manifest destiny seems to draw him across the country to record 48 more masterpieces, the Myth Society keeps their eyes on a much smaller, humbler prize. Conjured by the nasally yet charming dual lead vocals of Timony and James Monger, the Mitten State nostalgia often concedes to the much more interesting harmonization and melodies. "Queen of the Barley Fool" tells of the age-old one-two punch of inebriation and star-crossed love, its lyrical content no more contemporary than an Irish traditional, yet the track rocks a country-tinged power-pop chorus worthy of a spot on a New Pornographers album.
At their liveliest and most reverb-drenched, the hooks here scrape the Shins/New Pornographers stratosphere of catchiness despite a stilted folksy musk continually bringing them back down to earth. Bouncy, threadbare ballads like "Nightfall at Electric Park" and "Stump Speech" reach for the ear though are eventually willing to settle for a hippy-worthy hug instead, both melting into new age feel-goodness after establishing more urgent melodies. Even when they try to kick out the jams, nature still calls. "Debutante" interrupts the album's mostly gentle strumming with churning power chords and a fist-pumping verse, though by the third gooey sing-along chorus it's back to the campfire, the testosterone release over.
While they're still chasing down that sort of majestic folk anthem that echoes throughout the mountains, the band improves upon its self-titled debut with a much more consistent, confident album in Compass Rose Bouquet. Sure, they're not holding a candle to the narrative folk of Sufjan Stevens, but they've been doing this regional mythology stuff for about a decade now. Although they're not the catchiest or most emotionally powerful band or even the most popular Great Lakes yarn-spinners, the band's carved a unique niche that no indie folk monolith can wrest away from them.
