Pitchfork

Patrick Wolf is growing up. The classically trained, left-of-center indie star's colorful adolescence and early twenties were unusually productive, resulting in two charming albums (2003's Lycanthropy and 2005's Wind in the Wires) that found delicate string-and-piano pop pieces laced with guttural electronics. Both were charismatic but maudlin efforts, full of bittersweet montages, percussion-heavy compositions, and pissy, spit-out vocals that documented search after fruitless search for enlightenment or joy-- but if it all seemed a bit self-absorbed, there was no denying Wolf had a way with a melody.

With The Magic Position, though, Wolf shakes off much of the brooding insularity that clouded his previous records, refining his melodic strengths and overcoming his tendency toward sullen introspection. Album opener "Overture" has an energetic, marching pulse, its ascending violin line providing a lilting and confident backbone as Wolf announces his newly discovered positivity. He's "found the major key," as he states in the title cut, and it's in that key that Wolf affirms his growth not just as a songwriter, but as an entertainer. Where Wind in the Wires' musical potency was sometimes overshadowed by Wolf's penchant for melodrama, The Magic Position takes cues from Kate Bush, Antony, and Current 93 (and, okay, sometimes just a little Adam Ant) to turn his natural theatricality into an asset: Here, it's used to lend a sense of ethereal drama, to set scenes, tell stories, and imbue the record with a sort of campy, reverent mysticism.

But what still stands out most is the songs themselves: These tracks-- especially the upbeat springtime romp "Get Lost", the danceable, triumphant "Accident and Emergency", and the celebratory title track-- show an entirely new side of Wolf: one that finally puts impeccable pop songcraft ahead of lachrymose keening. The title track, in particular, is a stunner, riding a cantering violin riff to a soaring, staccato pop anthem. The keyboard's playful, ascending scale acts as a cheerful motif as the song twists off in unexpected directions with sudden melodic breaks and interludes, and juxtaposes Wolf's lyrical darkness with sonic brightness.

Of course, it's worth noting that, for all the frolicking glee, Wolf's melancholy hasn't entirely vanished-- it's just that it's no longer quite so cheerless. Granted, for Wolf to have discovered optimism may seem like an ominous transformation to fans content to be swaddled in cryptic early gems like "The Libertine", but the distinctive, ornate qualities of his first two records remain. And what's taken the place of all that narcissistic grief-- a crucial sense of self-awareness and the resolution of some very elementary identity issues-- has allowed him an artistic and lyrical progression that results in refined and concentrated updates like "The Stars", which insightfully links family and nature, or the virtuosic ballad "Augustine", while retaining a spirited, anthemic quality that puts them confidently at home in the same body of work.