Plenty of press have these guys been given and plenty of pressings of this album will continue leaving the record store shelves. And all for good reason: everything on it is great. It's not life altering, but calming because it's so non-life altering. What was started as an idea for a karaoke group turned into two guys singing over tape loops and another guy doing the programming. That evolution, so natural and quaint that it could have started as a drinking game, one that makes up new words to old songs, providing an easier approach to such a successful record but deceivingly easy one-sided take to miss the real meat of such light fare. All sounds fall behind the huge voices of the band. They trade lines; their voices dive around one another, interweave and then switch parts only to switch again. Acting as the dual voices of the songs main character who walks out of a bar and into the rising tide of the sea. He opens his mouth for air and feels the water lapping at his chest. All the while, the yearning voices tell him that he is clear of guilt, they direct him rather to think about the temporal nature of a tree. Then the water reaches the chin, shortly after the voices and the noise behind them go silent. There is only the silence of the story's ending, a vacancy that is far more powerful than any voice. Without even a whimper, sometimes the world still ends.