The Great Northwest The Widespread Reign of the Great Northwest

It's hard not to feel there's a certain injustice at work here. After all, fracas-happy they may be, but the Brian Jonestown Massacre have managed to parlay an association with the Dandy Warhols into documentary stardom and modest household namehood. Brian Coates, on the other hand, has been affiliated just as closely and on somewhat better terms with Courtney Taylor-Taylor, but has he reaped the critical or commercial benefits of that yet? Has he heck.

Not, mind you, that that's down to any lack of ambition on his part, since not only has this meticulous collective endeavour been six years in the making but he's clearly set out to recreate the panoramic sojourning of Deserter's Songs filtered through the bruised narcolepsy of Ladies & Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space. That's a hell of a game plan by any reckoning, and there are plenty of moments early on where The Widespread Reign...'s none too wide of the mark. Chief John, for instance, sets its stall out enormously well with its lambent guitars and contemplative delivery, while The Key feels like the work of a more hymnal Shins, and Western American is a tremulous ramble that ultimately fades its way into a synthesised fanfare so epiphanous that it feels almost reckless to throw it away such a distance from the end.

Nothing wrong with how the album actually finishes either, though, with the echoing reveries and burbling cascades of Surprise lending it a wonderful dream-like quality. Moreover, in the immediate lead-up to it, there are a number of further highs to be had. Split somehow manages to be simultaneously cavernous and luminescent, Game has an endearing campfire warmth to it, and, best of all, Be Coming is a remarkable approximation of what a collaboration between Brian Wilson and Robin Guthrie might sound like. Just a shame, then, that the mid-section's so thoroughly disappointing. Ready Or Not may match some of its companions for expansiveness, but it's too tentative to really connect on any meaningful level, while Know What I Mean is a slice of downtempo quirkcore that would've missed the cut on the first Eels album, and What I Want, though mercifully brief, resembles a mod stomper stuck on the stereo at the wrong speed and swiftly disposed of.

By that point, however, the spell has been comprehensively broken, which renders this album's subsequent rally impressive in a way it really shouldn't need to be. Furthermore, it's hard not to imagine that Coates has seen a fairly vivid side of life, but this isn't reflected in his lyrics, which are wastedly opaque when they could be characterfully rich. Still, these are quibbles that could easily be tackled when Coates returns, and he and his colleagues have done enough here to ensure that their re-emergence bears watching; a Fleet Foxes/Bon Iver-style breakthrough may not quite be on the cards just yet, but that's not to say the Great Northwest don't reward a bit of exploration.