The Hazards Of Love

The Hazards of Love feels like a gambit, with the Decemberists betting that increased bombast and literary aspiration will make up for decreased attention to pop craft. It's a hazardous bet that yields spectacular sparks but ultimately asks for much more than it's willing to give.

There are certainly enough good things about the album to let its more infuriating conceits pass.

The album is still frequently guilty of some of the shortcomings that have plagued the band since "Picaresque."

The Hazrds Of Love is a medieval romance that feels like homework. [Apr 2009, p.80]

Hazards of Love personifies potentially workable songs eaten away by overwhelmingly ill-conceived ambition.

Where past Decemberists albums rewarded delving deeply into the milieu The Decemberists had created, Hazards of Love fails to provide much worth that probing.

Enough happens musically on The Hazards of Love that I can still see it being fun for fans in a live setting, especially if you know the lyrics. On disc, though, it's largely missing the catchy choruses and verisimilar emotions that previously served as ballast for the Decemberists' gaudy eccentricities.

Casting off songs entirely for 17 parts that to their cult make a sum, I was sure this would be the one where I could finally take my other foot off the doorstop....[But] the fresh voices and staged character interplay keep Meloy's pretensions from boiling over, and loathe as I am to admit, two of the four title tracks culminate in something like hooks.

The Hazards of Love doesn't have the same thrill of the band's early work.

This is a man who penned a song called 'Chimbley Sweep' without conceding how daft that sounds, and this overblown opus about a mythical Margaret is equally wet and earnest.