You know, I've just been thinking, there're a lot of classes and sub-classes of rock bands, however you want to compartmentalize. In terms of listeners' affections, though, clearly some bands inspire slavish devotion among large numbers (i.e. The Smiths, Death Cab, Dave Matthews, though god knows why in the case of the last two); others, perhaps in smaller, more cultish fashion (i.e. Can, Thinking Fellers Union, Godspeed You Black Emperor, etc.). These bands usually accomplish such through either extreme lyrical specificity, or a sound that is so idiosyncratic that you're either going to love it or hate it (Matthews, for better or worse, does both). Such detail is bound to either endear or repel, and I applaud the effort, quite frankly. These are bands by which an individual can define a stance, and that's a truly important function, as far as I'm concerned. "Us against them" makes the world go 'round.

Then, of course, there are bands of such unremitting niceness or temperance that, by their very nature, seem almost impossible to either love or hate. This is not necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Take, for example, Archer Prewitt's highest profile gig The Sea and Cake. Now, I like the Sea and Cake. I even own a couple of their better records (the debut and "The Biz," if you must know). But, for the life of me, it is incomprehensible that they could be either loved or hated - loved, particularly. Sure, you can marvel at the delicate balance they maintain between being just-sonically-interesting-enough and flat out boring. You can try, with concerted effort, to give half a damn about what their lyrics are going on about, but for the most part, it just makes lovely music by which to pay the bills or do homework. Again, this is not a bad thing. The world needs ditch diggers, too, so the adage goes.

Prewitt's latest baroque-pop solo-offering pretty much maintains this semi-noble tradition, yet is frankly more engaging and indelible than that would imply. With a dulcet voice that steers delicately between non-Janovian (think "Julia") John Lennon and less-mannered Elvis Costello, you'd best believe that it's not in Prewitt's interest to rock out. And he doesn't. But neither does he channel the Sea and Cake's "Steely Dan without the bile" jazz-pop. Most of the record falls into a sort of melodic folk template that, for fun, throws in some truly bitchin' rococo horns and strings codas, some occasional handclaps, and maybe a harpsichord solo or two, just to make sure you're still paying attention. And, to his credit, you generally will be. Prewitt's melodies and lyrics are just lovely enough to draw you in, and the instrumental filigrees that are part and parcel of baroque-pop will keep you entertained.

Also, it should be noted that this record represents a marked improvement from Prewitt's previous solo outings, which tended to lose sight of good tunes in favor of sonics and ornamentation. As such, they often tipped the balance towards just plain boring. "Wilderness," on the other hand, deserves to be heard, especially if you think that Jim O'Rourke's solo albums represent some kind of apotheosis of indie-pop. Such a comparison is actually quite apt, and Prewitt looks pretty great cast in that light.

In the end, are you going to love this record like "The Queen is Dead" or "Tago Mago" or (god help you) "Crash"? Unlikely. But, will it provide lovely backing music while you're doing the dishes, reading the paper, or, say, writing on-line reviews? You bet your Left Banke* comp it will.

* The Left Banke is, perhaps, the quintessential "baroque pop" band of the late 60's. If you knew that already, dear reader, feel free to attack me for my apparent condescension.