Beginning with its title, the ambient-indie rockers’ third full-length evokes images of majestic yet barren landscapes, places void of much physical or emotional warmth. Following suit, vocalist/guitarist Jake Snider’s voice remains flat and detached throughout a series of vague, surreal scenes, even admitting in “Dr. L’Ling” to “becoming a casual businessman on matters of the heart ... a maintenance touch makes prose from poetry.” His is a world of little moonlight, a lot of darkness and mountains of sheets that remain chilly no matter what sort of action they see. Even the girl Snider spies on the dance floor in “When We Escape” must be an illusion; he wonders of her surreal surface beauty, “Can I see through you?”
Yet magnify Planet’s surface, and it’s clear the inspirational seeds planted by new keyboardist Alex Rose are churning the soil in a big way. Between Rose’s spacey synths and Dave Knudson’s increasingly formidable guitar work, the quintet’s more experimental, psychedelic leanings are given free rein. There are even a few proggy whiffs detected here and there, colorful and fleeting as the Northern Lights.
The juxtaposition isn’t quite violently glacial in shift. Nevertheless, who would have expected such a significant climate change from the band best known for such song titles as “Thanks for the Killer Game of Crisco® Twister” and “Spritz!! Spritz!!!”?
Minus the Bear
Planet of Ice
*** 1/2