Pitchfork

When Aloha released their first EP, they almost immediately became "the band with the vibraphone"; while all the other post-rock bands treated the vibes as indie rock bling, Aloha broke it free and chased along behind. Their first full-length, That's Your Fire, hurtled along with no breaks or brakes as the band bled one kind of happiness into another: "I'm in love! I got the car to start! I'm going to Mars! There's another Snapple in the fridge!" They had sad songs too, but the poignancy hit and passed. "Someone pumps my heart until it bursts. This vessel is blown." Think that sounds sissy? Not against that rhythm section, it doesn't.

But after two LPs, the band broke up and then reformed-- this time with keys and percussion man T. J. Lipple replacing vibraphonist Eric Koltnow. This took an adjustment for the band and the fans, but with the gorgeous Here Comes Everyone and now Some Echoes, the transition's complete: The band sounds more confident than ever, and every arrangement is stripped to the bones. After contributing so much of the dreamy grace of Here Comes Everyone, Lipple is a subtle presence here, and Matthew Gengler, a melodic bass guitarist hanging off the same musical tree as Chris Squire, bangs out single-note lines like his fucking life depends on it. Cavallario spends more time behind an electric organ than guitar, and instead of drowning his vocals in the mix, he sticks them right up front where they belong. He'll let an entire ballad hang on his vocals; skip to "If I Lie Down", Aloha's own "Whiter Shade of Pale", where he sounds bravely fragile above the organ, and only a stray "will I?" in the chorus mars the most exquisite song in their catalog.

The psychedelic rock of cuts like the opener, "Brace Your Face", bring a 1960s Strawberry Alarm Clock/early Yes vibe, and the lyrics are pared down to a few beautiful but head-scratching images per song. As far as I can tell, Cavallario's singing about the pain of staying separated from his lover, as memories and doubt play tricks with his head, until their explosive reunion at the end of the record. That, or he's been abducted by aliens. I'm fine either way, because while Some Echoes starts out as a good album, by the end it reveals itself as the best thing they've ever done: the second half is astonishing, from the hackey sack guitars of the Sea and the Cake-esque "Weekend" to "Mountain", a shattering final anthem.

And none of it would work if they still had the vibes. While Aloha Mk 2 proved itself as a going concern on Here Comes Everyone, Some Echoes explains why they had to drop the freewheeling improv that defined them early on. The vibes splayed across That's Your Fire like wild, loose nerve endings, all but stealing the spotlight from Cavallario's vocals-- which may have been what he wanted, back then. But now his band has a clearer, purer vision, and they express it fiercely.