Pigeons

Here We Go Magic have made a fantastic album that is at once inseparable from its Brooklyn beginnings and transcendental of its place in time and space.

Pigeons also finds Temple working well with others, the result being an inescapable momentum that begins with the unexpected funk of "Hibernation," one of the many songs that show an intimate understanding of Brian Enpo's Catalogue. [Spring 2010, p.63]

Another group who make a virtue of the physical and cultural space America has to offer, drawing on the disparateness of their origins. [Ju l 2010, p.108]

Like its predecessor, Pigeons is also delicate, but it does much more than shimmer and sound pretty. The rhythm section takes a huge step forward, the arrangements are more varied and robust, and there are countless actual hooks.

Even in a crowded field this summer, chockfull of musical juggernaunts releasing albums, Pigeons will likely catch people's attention. And those people will be glad it did.

The songs are absolutely confident that every repetition is worthwhile.

Pigeons feels less divorced from the bedroom freak-folk of the project's self-titled debut (recorded by Temple all by his lonesome, with the assistance of a looping pedal or two) than it seems the logical extension of that aesthetic. Somewhat surprisingly, especially given the debut's minor faults, the woodshedded feel of Pigeons is a good look for the band.

Some songs meander, though, so when taken as a whole, the album tends to wash together. But for those who are intrigued, Temple and company have provided plenty to dive into.

In more ways than one, Here We Go Magic has developed into the everyman's version of early Wayne Coyne: less polished, more noise and an equal amount of smiles.

The music is richer, more atmospheric and stranger than ever. This sophomore release is more collaborative than his debut, but the main aesthetic-electro-ambience buoyed by airy, dreamlike vocals-remains the same.

Pigeons may not be the defining moment all the blog buzz hinted at, and Luke Temple may still have several rough patches to smooth out in his songwriting process, but with Here We Go Magic's subtly enchanting second record, it sure is fun to listen to him work out the kinks.

This psychedelic folk pop-athon of tickled riffs, snappy elastic basslines, shimmering synths and sweetly sung vocals is all dreamy eccentricity, with a bittersweet hint of rhythmic unrest, from start to finish, and should send Hidden Cameras fans into an amorous tizz after just one listen.

Unlike the first record, which relied on Temple alone to fill out the layers of the songs, Pigeons utilizes the full band, and improves because of it. The songs are better composed, and more interesting: the experimental bits, which were a bit of a distraction, are more focused and purposeful.

Temple and co. have obviously taken a big left turn that at the very least indicates a commitment to motion over stagnation; they're pushing themselves and their listeners somewhere.