Pitchfork

"Montreal may eat its young," says this record, but the kids up northward seem to be doing alright-- happy and supportive and teaming up in various combinations to crank out records at a rate that lets critics feel refreshingly useful. It's just the kind of scene, in fact, that'll give you a record like Final Fantasy's-- a solo-type project from Owen Pallett, who spends the bulk of his music-time playing and arranging strings for acts like the Hidden Cameras and the Rory Gilmore-approved Arcade Fire.

Has a Good Home, though, turns out to be a perfectly charming thing all on its own-- a slight little thing, maybe, but an awfully friendly one. Pallett's a bit of a classicist and a decent writer of low-key pop songs, which he's arranged here with a pleasantly minimal, umm, palette: Mostly just the pizzicato pluck and bowed harmonies of his violin, visited here and there by acoustic guitars, horns, or whatever else seems useful. The setup starts off in a losing battle with Andrew Bird, who's already taken the man/violin/tapeloop triad to incredible levels of elegance. Then you realize that Pallett's songwriting agenda is a little simpler than that--full of enough straight lines and sappy hooks to leave some of these tracks sounding more like the Kings of Convenience are trying to impress a cellist.

Somewhere between those poles, Pallett finds enough good moves to make me wish I could follow more of the Canadian references sprinkled through his lyrics. Most immediately winsome is "This Is the Dream of Win and Regine", which makes good on its dual namecheck (Dntel/Postal Service, Arcade Fire) with a terrifically sprightly pop number, all stirring 80s melody and delicate violin harmonies. More impressive are the moments where Pallett plays to his strengths and arranges himself like a chamber group: "That's when the Audience Died", surely the most gorgeous thing here, starts off with his best vocal performance, then lets the strings well up enough to script some leads. Mix in some gems of genuine Canadian lyricism-- "she has not been able to sleep/ Since the days of Trudeau"-- and it's all of the album's strengths in four minutes.

Unfortunately for us, hits like that lie a little sparse over these sixteen brief tracks. Sometimes it's Pallett's pinched-up voice that falters; sometimes it's that the songs are too rote, sophisticated in form but lacking in flavor. The sedate form, the variations in sound, and the easy-on-the-ears violin tone all keep it pleasant enough company, but a lot of these tracks aren't likely to really grab anyone who hasn't already spent the winter wishing Joanna Newsom were a guy with a normal voice and a more easygoing disposition. For the time being, then, it's just cheers for the good ones: four or five tracks you'd be hard pressed not to wind up charmed by.