It's hard to believe that back in the 1980s, long before forming the Aluminum Group, John and Frank Navin were in a hardcore band. It's about as opposite to the sensibilities they tap for their current project as you can get; when you listen to the music and take into account the fact that they've now pursued this concern for over ten years, it's clear that they followed their hearts into the Aluminum Group. Their choice to go with a sound heavy on the vintage easy listening seems more apt every year, too-- when they started there weren't a whole lot of people outside of Stereolab, Jim O'Rourke, and some scattered lounge revivalists doing this kind of thing, but breezy, plush indie pop has since become a much larger niche.
Little Happyness theoretically closes out a trio of releases that began with 2002's Happyness and continued with 2004's Morehappyness, but apart from titles and freaky fractalized faces on the covers it's hard to see what exactly unifies the three works thematically. They are similar sonically, though, and these three albums could be seen as something of a second phase for the band, a sleeker descendant of the heavily orchestrated music they made on their early albums.
The Navin brothers have always had a penchant for literate lyrics sprinkled with references, and that persists here. It's hard, actually, to think of a lyrical approach that would fit better with their sophisticated, highly designed, and reserved aesthetic. John McEntire of Tortoise and the Sea & Cake, the latter of whom is the Aluminum Group's closest point of comparison, is back in the producer's chair, oddly joined by Prada designer Fabio Zambernardi, whose presence makes more sense once you've heard the music.
The first thing that's apparent-- and you already know this if you've followed these guys-- is just how much control they have of every aspect of their sound. There is not a note or phrase out of place-- which could be a recipe for sterility, but rarely is for them. "Headphones" is a smooth-as-silk anthem for the iPod generation with a superb chorus and memorable verses, all sung from the perspective of a guy on an elevator standing next to someone listening to music so loudly that he can hear all 16 tracks of the recording. The band's trademark close harmonies and lightly buzzing synths make it go down easy.
The album's bookends, "Milligram of Happiness" and "The World Doesn't Spin on Us", are likewise superb pieces of well-cushioned indie pop, with airy harmonies and swaying beats-- the first one in particular feels like an update of Steely Dan's best moments. "Paper Crowns (Runaway Bride)" has a different feel from anything I can think of in their catalog, with a dancier beat, an assertive post-punk bass line, and a bed of synths that suggest a lost Stereolab backing track. They flirted with this type of thing on Pelo, but didn't nail it so precisely.
Not every track has a grabbing melody to build around, and these are naturally the lowlights of the album ("Atlantic" and "Post It" are especially sketchy), but even a few of them grow on you. "Checking Out" slipped right past me on the first several listens but eventually revealed itself as an engagingly mysterious track that even expands their range a bit. Little Happyness is a more-than-satisfying conclusion to the Happyness series and, after Pedals, is in fact one of the band's best albums.
