THE SHINS

Line-up: Well in the end this is James Mercer's turf, but a quick shout-out to the one stable line-up that made up The Shins for the first three albums (besides Mercer): Martin Crandall (keyboards), Dave Hernandez (bass), Jesse Sandoval (drums).

My opinion of someone who has probably been listening to more of The Shins than maybe I should have is that James Mercer (and whoever he's playing with at any given time but primarily Mercer) is both one of the most rewarding and most frustrating recording artists found in my collection. It's going to come up in the reviews below a lot but in my humble opinion Mercer is a genuine genius when it comes to melody. He imbues together decades worth of smart pop craftsmanship from all his inspirations old and modern into singular riffs or harmonies, in a way that can only be described as classic songwriting - as in something that feels so natural that it's like it's existed in popular music since the dawn of its time, distilling something truly essential about how to write melodies. Even at its worst Mercer is thoroughly listenable - pleasant - because those melodies shine through. But there's always something that makes you wonder about that "worst" part. Mercer's a master of melody but he struggles to find a suitable vessel for it: whether it's production, arrangements, tone or even the writing around the key melodies, something's always there to let his potential down. The Shins' discography is almost an exercise of annoyances in how often he's so close to something incredible in long form but the lightning very rarely strikes the way you'd want it.

But when it's great, it's fantastic. There's a reason why I've ended up with the entire collection of The Shins' studio albums and will probably keep buying them knowing full well the risks, solely on the strength of one specific album and the everpresent promise that maybe this time everything clicks. Everything Mercer has released carries at least something that practically defines "indie pop" as a loose genre identity, to the point that you could very happily place The Shins and Mercer by extension into the official pantheon of the genre even with a hit-and-miss CV like his. At their strongest The Shins' music can hit like a thousand bricks through sheer melody and Mercer's world-weary narrator tone alone, with whimsy and energy bubbling through the notes. The gamble with each release as a listener feels worth it because of how great it sounds when Mercer's at his strongest and nothing comes in his way.

And for what it's worth, the line that some people draw on this band - Mercer's decision ca. early 2010s to sack off the established band and turn the project into a solo act with any collaborators he wishes at any given time - has never really been much of a controversial twist for me. I never quite got in-depth into The Shins' back catalogue before the announcement came and so I never established that relationship with the "original" line-up or the pretense it was a democracy of four. And in all honesty, and with no disrespect intended, none of the people involved on the first three Shins albums had a particularly personal style that would stand out in its absence. As far as I'm concerned The Shins have always felt like Mercer doing his own thing, and so the reviews below should be read that in mind. In other words, I've no bias towards any particular "era" of The Shins, it all stands on equal ground. An unfortunately uneven equal ground most of the time, but honestly - worth it for the greats.

Main chronology:

• 2001: Oh, Inverted World
• 2003: Chutes Too Narrow
• 2007: Wincing the Night Away
• 2012: Port of Morrow
• 2017: Heartworms
• 2018: The Worm's Heart

OH, INVERTED WORLD

1) Caring Is Creepy; 2) One by One All Day; 3) Weird Divide; 4) Know Your Onion!; 5) Girl Inform Me; 6) New Slang; 7) The Celibate Life; 8) Girl on the Wing; 9) Your Algebra; 10) Pressed in a Book; 11) The Past and Pending

A humble beginning, with that one song that could change your life.

The Shins' debut comes heavy with expectations. It's not because of the infamous and over-referenced (guilty, natch!) "change your life" line from Garden State - I don't believe anyone takes that bit with any gravitas anymore and it's long since established itself as a running joke that's cruelly if well-intendedly forever levied against Oh, Inverted World and The Shins in general. It's "New Slang" that's the big weight. It's one of the hallowed group of songs with the power to force you to sit down and pay attention from the first instance. The emotional weight dripping from James Mercer's weary voice, the ridiculously simple but cunningly brilliant "ooh-ooh-ooh" hook, the gorgeous arrangement that seems like a straightforward campfire song at first but eventually reveals itself to host a multitude of depth and tiny but important details, the sheer gravitas of it for such a straightforward song - it's a brilliant, brilliant song. Yet it's a humble and unassuming song, but that's perhaps its most important strength - it resonates like a personal hidden treasure you've happened to come across and it could be special to you and you alone.

There is absolutely nothing on Oh, Inverted World that comes even close to "New Slang" and the song is its biggest curse: a legitimate classic weighing down the rest of its parent album that didn't have the luck to be just as majestic. Good news is that the sooner that thought is processed and dealt with, the sooner you come to realise the album's other strengths, even if it takes a long while like for the undersigned. They're just completely different ones.

Humble and unassuming describes Oh, Inverted World accurately enough as a whole. It's a literal bedroom recording, with most of it having been written and recorded in Mercer's own home before any hope of it seeing a true light of day was in anyone's minds. They're short, unassuming pop songs: warm, lithe melodies with songwriting where the backbone lies in straightforward singer/songwriter elements. That alone makes it a novelty within The Shins' discography. Mercer can be a genius within his genre when it comes to brilliantly clever yet still blindingly direct melodies, and Oh, Inverted World is the one album where that factor hasn't had the chance yet to become The Shins' de facto modus operandi. Each album since this has dressed those melodies up in grand, punchy arrangements like a bloodhungry indie pop barbarian - some very successfully and some less so. Oh, Inverted World plays with smaller stakes, if at any: it's homely and homey.

The one little flourish that Oh, Inverted World does allow itself is some rather tasteful keyboard work. They're not extravagant parts either, but they bring a change to a lot of the album's general sound world and the songs that hold them up the clearest generally end up being the album's best. "Caring Is Creepy" - as close to a big and explosive "rocker" as this album gets - highlights its love-at-first-sight hooks with vintage organs, the playfully ascending and descending keyboard riff of "Girl on a Wing" ends up stealing the show particularly as the song slows its pace from its cold open, and the brightly parading synths of "One by One All Day" practically make the song (as does the cunningly punctuating xylophone referenced in the song's lyrics), as enjoyable as its twee rollicking generally is. The keyboards overall lend kind of dreaminess all over the album that adds to its charms, and often turn out to be the main part that strikes a fancy in their respective songs.

There's one more ace to the album's sleeve and that's the closing track "The Past and Pending", which is more or less "New Slang" Part 2, just a little dreamier; it's a lovely way to close the album as its refrain seems to run forever and you want to cling onto it for as long as you can. The remaining tracks are fine even if not as strong. They contribute to the overall atmosphere of the album and there's frequent reminders of Mercer's cunning tricks (the dialogue-like vocal runs of "Know Your Onion!" for example), but there's a clear gap running between them and what's already mentioned. It's a classic case of the sum being better than the parts. the stronger set carrying the weight while what's in-between accentuate the overall feel. With only half an hour in length, even the lesser cuts never overstay their welcome and stay novel.

I tend to prefer The Shins when Mercer's a bit more vibrant in his expression, but Oh, Inverted World has more to it than its humble outlook and the endless weight of its Big Song offer at first glance. It's the cosiest Shins album, a more intimate wrapping for Mercer's tricks, and that's proven to be aspect that lures me in. It'd be great if everything was as strong as "Caring Is Creepy" or especially "New Slang", but this is one case where it's hard to hold the album against itself given how well the whole ultimately works.

Physically: Jewel case with a simple booklet containing the lyrics.

CHUTES TOO NARROW  

1) Kissing the Lipless; 2) Mine’s Not a High Horse; 3) So Says I; 4) Young Pilgrims; 5) Saint Simon; 6) Fighting in a Sack; 7) Pink Bullets; 8) Turn a Square; 9) Gone for Good; 10) Those to Come

Mercer's posse graduates into a proper band, but struggle with presenting anything that really sticks this time around. All very pleasant though.

Chutes Too Narrow falls into that awkward category of albums where I struggle to think of anything to actually criticize, and yet it still fails to click with me. The early/mid-00s indie sound so wonderfully represented by the album is close to my heart, it retains everything I enjoyed about Oh, Inverted World and appreciate The Shins for in general, and at various points during my lifetime I’ve called James Mercer a melodic genius (sometimes with hyperbole, sometimes dead seriously) and he's up to his usual tricks here too; but no matter how many boxes I check as I go down the list of things I like about the album, this is still the Shins album that’s remained the most distant for me. What am I supposed to make of that?

The Shins are a livelier bunch on this album than on Oh, Inverted World, having graduated from Mercer’s bedroom solo project-come-band into an actual group of sorts, and the more vibrant full band arrangements throughout the record reflect this. There’s fewer cosy acoustic bedroom strums and there's a lot more electric guitars and pep in the backbone: some parts even rock, or at least what passes as rock in The Shins’ world. The best parts of the songs are still Mercer’s vocal melodies which make his unintelligible word salad lyrics come to life as well as the quirky keyboard parts that are all over the record, both of which were also the best parts of Oh, Inverted World and just sound as great when they’re texturing more energetic tracks. Chutes Too Narrow isn’t a million miles away from the debut despite going more electric, but it’s a step towards the more characterised Shins sound that comes to mind when thinking about Mercer's merry bunch.

Still, this whole album somehow leaves me largely unaffected about it even if I do enjoy it in purely objective terms. I guess my main issue here is that there aren’t any real stone cold stand-out songs. “Mine’s Not a High Horse” is the closest the album has one, which in its chorus hits that special Mercer zone where the best parts of the album are distilled into one snappy section, the whimsical keyboard melody climbing around Mercer’s voice and the rollicking rhythm. “So Says I” is another standout but I’m honestly hard-pressed to say whether it’s because I genuinely think it’s a great song, or if it sticks simply because its manic pogoing and twee glam rock attitude distinguishes it so much from everything else around it; the whole album is a caffeine shot into the Shins formula and “So Says I” is its most hyper-awake part. Once the pretty acoustic debut throwback “Young Pilgrims” has had its turn, Chutes Too Narrow settles into a comfortable loop of pleasant and perky indie pop ditties that strum, jangle and frolic in a similar manner over and over again - the country twang of “Gone for Good” is about the only time the album pulls a new trick out of its hat - and it shortly comes to a close after the half hour mark. It all passes by a little too quickly and without stirring things too much: itt doesn’t outstay its welcome, and yet after it’s finished it doesn’t feel like it ever really made much of a visit in the first place. Chutes Too Narrow is a little too unassuming for its own good, and not enough of it really springs to life.

The Shins at their best are a genuine joy and at their worst Mercer throws out overwrought treacle and calls it a song, and Chutes Too Narrow falls so squarely in the dead right middle that it doesn’t tick the reaction off in either direction. It's an accomplished record, I'll give it that - I've been enjoying its presence in my rotation in the weeks preceding this review and so it's not like I can really say a bad word about it. But in the group's chronology it’s the phase between the intimacy of Oh, Inverted World and the full bloom of Wincing the Night Away, and both of those albums offer more distinguished (and distinguishable) takes on the ideas presented on Chutes Too Narrow. This is like a little appetiser to give you an idea of what you can expect from The Shins and to pique your interest towards the courses to follow, but you’ll forget it the moment the next dish comes along.

Physically: Jewel case packaging. The booklet is lovely: it's a fold-out style where various parts of the artwork are on their separate layers, so the further you fold the more you take top layers away and reveal further background details from the cover image. It's very cute.

WINCING THE NIGHT AWAY  

1) Sleeping Lessons; 2) Australia; 3) Pam Berry; 4) Phantom Limb; 5) Sealegs; 6) Red Rabbits; 7) Turn on Me; 8) Black Wave; 9) Spilt Needles; 10) Girl Sailor; 11) A Comet Appears

The Shins expand their sound and give more space for their signature melodies to grow in. This is what they had been building for and now it's here and it's wonderful.

The bubbling synths that open "Sleeping Lessons" are forever ingrained in my head. It was the first song - I think - I heard from The Shins, when the reviews for Wincing the Night Away were doing rounds and one of them helpfully contained a link to the song; for whatever reason that opening brings that era of my life into my mind so tightly, more than anything else on this record. The whimsically dreamy start to the song is a fun red herring though, because shortly after the song explodes into one of The Shins' most rollicking, hectic bangers. The song grows into full bloom, and listened to in retrospect after I had become familiar with The Shins' other albums, the band themselves did the same on Wincing the Night Away.

The longest ever running joke with The Shins is how they're going to CHANGE YOUR LIFE and it's so, so boring to repeat at this stage (even though I've already referenced it myself earlier on this page, as if bound by law), but hearing "Sleeping Lessons" and then later on the full album really did have an impact, albeit a lesser one. Wincing the Night Away was among the first American indie albums I remember getting really acquainted with after spending most of the 2000s fixated on Britrock and my neighbouring Nordic regions, and it was a breath of brand new air in its whimsy, splendour and lushness. As much as it's a time capsule for me (a good half the album's worth of songs bring back some really vivid memories of certain places I happened to hear them in), the truth is it's only gotten better with age, even if perhaps unfairly so as I now get to compare it to other Shins albums. In 2021 as I write this, I own all The Shins albums that have been released so far and that's solely thanks to this album; and even if most of those records have been diminishing returns or have only carried brief glimpses of what I fell in love with here, I keep obediently following Mercer because at one point in his lifetime, he made these ten songs (eleven, if you really want to count "Pam Berry" that's technically a chopped off intro) and that's enough to make me a devotee.

From a chronological perspective Wincing the Night Away is everything the first two albums ever promised about The Shins, and everything it does is something that they'd be compared to forevermore - it well and truly establishes The Shins, gives them their final form. James Mercer and co are still firmly stood in their old indie pop grounds and the evolutionary line from Oh, Inverted World to here is crystal clear, but on the other hand Mercer's yearning for a more produced, layered sound is starting to gain real territory here. Hence, the instrumentation isn't limited to just twee keyboards and the occasional horn or violin flourish on top of the traditional band quartet set: the credits lists synthesizers, a bouzouki, a dulcimer, MIDI programming and a cat piano (!?), among other instruments. Most of these were also played by Mercer himself, as he's starting to show more explicitly that The Shins were his project through and through, something that he'd declare in all capital letters come next album. Here though, he hits the sweet spot between the two approaches. The songs are lush and vibrant, but they still have that intimate, homegrown feel that was so charming about the first two albums, as well as this one. And besides, every little extra element is there only in service of The Melody.

The Melody is the king here. Mercer is incredible and relentless in how he creates the most addictive, hook-heavy melodies both with his voice and instruments, and they all sound perfectly natural and effortless like they just blossomed into existence instead of being meticulously engineered to be weapons of mass affection. Shaking away the basement band aesthetics of the first two albums has only increased his power, because now those melodies are engaged with flourishing, rich arrangements, which act as highlighters and underliners for said melodies. "Phantom Limb" and "Turn on Me" are two of the best songs Mercer's written so far - and honestly probably ever will - and they're deeply layered in a stream of hooks and signature melodies one after another. "Phantom Limb" is even indulgent about it, closing off with a long wordless sing-along of vocal harmonies that's the perfect cherry on top of the song's irresistable run; "Turn on Me" meanwhile doesn't need such tricks to assert its dominance, as that bullseye chorus is more than enough (and the Y-O-U hook is somehow both obvious and ingenius at the same time). The sugar-bouncy "Australia" that constantly tries to one-up itself and the more calm and collected but none less lush "Girl Sailor", placed perfectly in the tracklist to break tension where it's needed, aren't too far behind either. These songs are such a celebration of songcrafts, smarts and arrangement magic, and they're pure joy.

The other added benefit of The Shins expanding their palette for Wincing the Night Away is that for the first time ever they've brought in some real variety, after how both of the first two albums (and particularly Chutes Too Narrow) were perhaps a little one-note. The variety on Wincing the Night Away doesn't mean just some changes in tempo and tone either, as Mercer takes the opportunity to take his posse into brand new waters. In most cases it means a heavier lean on keyboards as a shared lead instrument, like on soft and dreamy "Red Rabbits", but when Wincing the Night Away really lets go of its inhibitions it's a sight to behold. The surreal sway of "Sealegs", driven by its robotic drum machine and off-kilter speak-song vocals, is mind-blowingly different if you arrive here after the first two albums and almost unrecognisable as The Shins even when compared to everything else on this record, but it's a wobbly, woozy delight that subtly knits together the various threads of the album's new ideas under its more extreme guise. To a lesser extent the tightly-wound tension "Spilt Needles" is the same, first locked into a groove lead by a rhythm so sharp it jumps out immediately, before diving into a more familiar territory in its bridge, revealing a soft spot in its armor for a moment. Both "Spilt Needles" and "Sealegs" are still awash with those signature melodies, but they are practically alien in form and it's done exquisitely.

They're also shifts to a more serious territory. The Shins have spent 90% of their song catalogue so far walking on sunshine from a musical perspective even when Mercer's lyrics were often dripping in surprisingly brutal imagery, but the tone of the songs is coming closer to the lyrics on Wincing the Night Away, even if it's still dominantly a bright indie pop album. "Sealegs" and "Spilt Needles" make the first moves, but the album's sparsest songs lay down on this even heavier, with "Black Wave" matching its title sonically to a staggering decree with its hazy, textural murkiness and "A Comet Appears" closing the album with a scared sigh. "A Comet Appears" is, overall, one of the album's real high points: after so many songs full of wim and energy, its time-worn heart and Mercer's quietly desperate delivery are an emotional stab in the heart, and it's where he utilises that gift of melody like a blade. It's both beautiful and devastating. Where "Sleeping Lessons" revved up the album ready to go in a flash of excitement, "A Comet Appears" is its polar opposite and lays the record's weary head into a long rest with a hint of sadness that it's over. I primarily associate Wincing the Night Away with positive emotions, and that's partly why "A Comet Appears" is so impactful, as it tears the facade away before disappearing into the ether.

All of that - the variety in styles, the emotional complexity, the expanded sound arsenal - is exactly what the first two Shins records needed; and compared to the later records, the production hasn't yet become overbearing. But Wincing the Night Away isn't great because it's The Shins But More! but because it feels like Mercer finally gets to realise his own potential as a songwriter here, and the decision to embellish the sound is what made it possible. The purple prose and lavish praise for the songs above aren't because they just sound great, but because as songs they are such vividly written little masterpieces that hook into your life. "New Slang" on Oh, Inverted World made an impression to everyone who heard it because its central melody felt like it spoke to you (you, directly) from the very second you first heard it and it opened a pathway to your heart you never knew existed. Someone who's written something that great is unlikely to never do so again, but it took until this point for Mercer to repeat the trick and when he finally did, the floodgates opened and he wrote several songs equally as evocative and impressive; I worked my way down the discography backwards from here and it took me a fair long while to really get to grips with the first two albums because there was a stark absence of songs so clearly realised, apart from that one song everyone loved. But there's an abundance of such inspiration and warmth to the songs here that you find yourself swallowed into their dream-like worlds, and that's what makes Wincing the Night Away not just The Shins' best - and most consistent - record, but honestly one of my favourite indie pop records in general. The Shins are a band who probably aren't all that special in the grand scheme of things for me, but who I hold special nonetheless and it's solely because of this.

Physically: Digipak with a lyrics booklet. The lyrics are extended across pages so you often have to flick through multiple pages to read the full words; which looks neat and is pretty cool visually, but it's also a bit of a pain in practice.

PORT OF MORROW

1) The Rifle's Spiral; 2) Simple Song; 3) It's Only Life; 4) Bait and Switch; 5) September; 6) No Way Down; 7) For a Fool; 8) Fall of '82; 9) 40 Mark Strasse; 10) Port of Morrow

Now reborn as a studio project for Mercer, and hints of something spicier get muddled by an awkwardly safe professionalism elsewhere.

The Shins started out as James Mercer's solo project: it only became a band when he convinced his bandmates from Flake Music to be his back-up musicians for the solo songs he had written and which were gaining considerable traction. While their debut had a largely acoustic sound, The Shins never particularly sounded like they weren’t a 'proper' band either to my ears - which means that I was one of the people who got caught by surprise when Mercer embraced the idea that The Shins was his project and he unceremoniously (and a little sheepishly) fired the rest of the band a few years after Wincing the Night Away. Port of Morrow is a turning point for The Shins as an entity, as Mercer teaming up with Danger Mouse in Broken Bells and the Sparklehorse collaboration record Dark Night of the Soul in the interim years inspired him to treat his main project the same way: hiring guns as the songs saw fit, collaborating without fixing people in place and tweaking the material in studio as long as his whims demanded.

Port of Morrow is still clearly in lineage with the first three albums given how unmistakable Mercer's voice and personality is, but it is undoubtedly a major change. The expanded instrumentation of Wincing the Night Away hinted at Mercer’s growing ambitions and now on his own he’s turned towards a full-blown studio experience, with a hi-fi and high-detail sound dominating the album and a star-studded cast list supporting him. Besider Mercer himself and the supervising superstar producer Greg Kurstin who play most of the parts on the album, Port of Morrow's credits roll is a list of names familiar to anyone who’s paid attention to indie rock liner notes in the 2000s: Sleater Kinney member and session drummer favourite Janet Weiss, Modest Mouse drummer Joe Plummer and Conor Oberst collaborators Nik Freitas and Nate Walcott feature among others, and even the ex-Shins members Dave Hernandez and Martin Crandall appear across the album. Mercer's changed attitude of utilising the right talent he wants in the exact section he needs it in is reflected in the credits list, and everything about Port of Morrow is equally pitch perfectly executed and micromanaged. The homegrown, grassroots sound of the first three albums is long gone, and in their place is a distinctly, and slightly disjointedly, professional approach.

I'm normally not one to criticise this kind of sound - I typically obsess over these studio-as-instrument records - but sometimes things go a little overboard even for my tastes. When even the stripped down acoustic palate cleanser "September" sounds so busy with everything that's happening in the background that it's just as loaded with elements as anything else on the record, you know the sound might be a little too engineered. The magic with albums like these - when they work - is that each detail matters and is clearly audible, even if you need headphones for it. Port of Morrow, in comparison, sounds stuffed and overproduced, which is a word I don't wave around lightly. There's a lot of clean and quite honestly sterile sheen all over the place either hiding countless instrumental details that turn out to contribute to surprisingly little or loading up elements that only serve to clutter the sound, such as the thoroughly unnecessary synth squelches all over the chorus of "Fall of '82". I’m not entirely sure Greg Kurstin - most famous for Adele, Sia, Kelly Clarkson et al - has really been the right fit for Mercer’s tone or songwriting, and his touch often feels at odds at wanting something punchier out of Mercer’s gentle indie pop hand.

That strange kind of professional po-faced attitude is present across the album including the actual songs: everything’s very grown up and even when some of the whimsy of yesteryear does appear, like in the bubbly platformer game jungle level music of "Bait and Switch", it doesn't sound natural - but that could just be the heavy-handed production talking. They're still Shins songs but in fitted business suits and cosy office jobs, fit for big budget coming of age film soundtracks and smooth radios: listen to "It's Only Life" and "For a Fool" to hear what I mean, both middle-of-the-road ballads that lend the impression of Mercer and Kurstin's song selection process resembling a curated audience test for maximum easy likability (though, granted, I have a small genuine soft spot for "For a Fool" because I've played it so much on Rocksmith after picking up bass again). It’d be easy to blame Kurstin here but I think at least half the blame is on Mercer himself, who’s still adept at delightful and catchy melodies but he rarely bats for anything exciting across the record and rather seems to play it safe. “Simple Song” is a good example, because it’s such a rush with its big booming drums and a lush chorus to die for with an instant-hook vocal melody to boot; it’s impossible not to love it at least a little. But at some point you start wondering whether you enjoy “Simple Song” in itself, or if you enjoy it because it’s so eerily close to a more top 40 ready version of “Phantom Limb” off the last album. “Simple Song” is Mercer repeating the incredible lead single of his last record but cutting together a flashier edit of it, and it works because of course it does. But it's a bit clinical.

But I'm still a sucker for Mercer's melodies and for the most part, that's enough to keep me enjoying Port of Morrow to the extent that every once in a blue moon it gets a spin in the player. It’s not a particularly thrilling record, but there aren't really that many real flubs in the tracklist either and mostly it's a pleasant romp through some overproduced pop jingles, where some parts captivate as much as others are on autopilot. Fortunately the former outweigh the latter to some extent and occasionally there's genuine delight, such as the sunny and warm "No Way Down" that's a momentary freedom from the album's heavyhandedness. There’s also two absolute knockouts with "The Rifle's Spiral" and "Port of Morrow", both of which take advantage of the laborious studio environment and make a strong positive showcase for Mercer’s new approach. "The Rifle's Spiral" is a real journey despite its three and half minute length, with Weiss conjuring a hypnotic drum shuffle that propels the song's disjointed guitars and hectic synth noise into dramatic ebbs and flows - and yet it still functions like an indie pop singalong, just something more surreal and unhinged. The title track meanwhile drowns itself in atmospheric keyboards, letting Mercer's falsetto swim beside the genuinely lovely arrangement and evocative melody. Neither song sounds like anything ever done under The Shins moniker and yet they work perfectly as part of that continuum, and they do their job selling the new concept. They sound like the kind of brave new start that Mercer was seemingly aiming for by relaunching his project; it's a shame then that outside those songs he often plays things curiously safe.

Physically: A nice classic gatefold with a lyrics booklet. As an aside I really love the cover for this record.

HEARTWORMS

1) Name for You; 2) Painting a Hole; 3) Cherry Hearts; 4) Fantasy Island; 5) Mildenhall; 6) Rubber Ballz; 7) Half a Million; 8) Dead Alive; 9) Heartworms; 10) So Now What; 11) The Fear

Charmingly erratic and surprisingly consistent return, but also lacking in the sort of highlights you'd rave about whenever Mercer's got a new album out.

Port of Morrow saw James Mercer officially turn The Shins into a fully autocratic venture for his own whims, but it's the Shins album with the least of Mercer's own personality and that's in good part thanks to the radio-friendly big name production. Heartworms, then, sounds closer to what Mercer perhaps intended all along, tying his musical language inseparably together with his quirks and influences. It's self-produced, a whole lot more idiosyncratic than Port of Morrow and Mercer's pulled together a strictly limited number of collaborators to act as a band of sorts for when he needs something to sound like a group effort instead of pure studio craftsmanship. Its inspiration also stems from the whole spectrum of James' singer/songwriter past, The Shins' melodic jangles, his electronically oriented Broken Bells side project and the 1980s indie acts that he worships, and it splices them all together into a genuinely somewhat weird concoction; that at-first uncharacteristic cover art makes perfect sense in context because there's that streak of unpredictable surreality to Mercer's operations here.

I honestly have a lot of admiration for Heartworms conceptually and it's especially clear why if you spend a good time with Port of Morrow and then this album right afterwards: there's simply so much more excitement to what Mercer is doing here and the album is full of surprise. The main thing is that it, as in a blink of an eye Mercer can move from his trademark stylistics with e.g. the reliably Shins-like singalong ditty "Name for You" and the cosy acoustic daydreaming of "Mildenhall", to something as neurotic and twitchy as "Painting a Hole" or the string-swept resignment of "The Fear". There's a constant momentum to Heartworms that's the result of it being a jumble of influences and ideas which form a sum that makes a strange logic out of its disparate strands. It's the most varied album released under The Shins moniker so far

What's also apparent if you come into this directly after Port of Morrow is how Heartworms lacks a real stone cold classic or two, when even Port of Morrow had its title track and "The Rifle's Spiral" which kept you coming back to the album and contribute to why I do actually like that album to some extent despite how harsh I'm towards it here. Heartworms is arguably one of the most interesting Shins albums, but it's not got its own killer hit that Mercer has always managed to sneak into any album he's released. The closest we get is "Dead Alive", a throwback to the early Shins sound laced with a barking mad Halloween spookiness twist which works incredibly well - but as fun as it is it's not the kind of first place trophy song that becomes synonymous with the Mercer project it's associated with and draws you back in. I like plenty of songs on Heartworms - "Mildenhall" is quaintly heartwarming in its earnest and happily cheesy nostalgia, "So Now What" stretches the kind of lush centrepiece swoon moment most songs save for the finale into a full song length and it strikes a particular level of beautiful as it does so, and both "Painting a Hole" and "Half a Million" are great examples of the more hyperactive mad genius concoctions Mercer is comfortable cooking under the reimagined Shins. None of them are songs you'd rave about to anyone who cares to listen though. There's no "New Slang", no "Mine's Not a High Horse", no "The High Road" that you'd truly fall in love with and which would pull you into the album as a whole even when the rest doesn't match it, and while that might perhaps be a high ask it's something that Mercer has always been reliably solid with otherwise. Heartworms' curse is that while it's consistent, it also doesn't plateau particularly high. And then on the other hand, it houses a couple songs that are actual stinkers: the bubblegum float of "Fantasy Island" with its irritatingly coy chorus and the wishywashy indie-pop-by-numbers "Rubber Ballz" are probably the worst two songs in The Shins' back catalogue so far, going beyond plain forgettable and actually being a little annoying.

Heartworms is a decent album but it's the worst kind of decent album: one with the potential to be great. A lot of it is delightfully quirky and it marries well with the more conventionally Mercer-like songs, but it's all a step or two away from being something truly great, something that would stick around. During the Heartworms sessions Mercer had the bonkers idea of doing an alternative version of each and every song, one as the songs were 'intended' to be (i.e. the ones here) and another where he went completely wild and which he would later release as the companion album The Worm's Heart. The two are inseparably linked as much as I'd like to judge them on their own, and while Heartworms is the more cohesive and sensible of the two, some of the ideas from the alternative takes could have taken these songs to the next level when transported over and converted into the type of vision James had here. So not only is it an album with potential but you can practically touch that potential. But that's all could've would've should've, and the reality is that Heartworms is another appealing yet flawed album into The Shins canon - though at least you can give Mercer credit that he always lets you down in a different way, at least.

Physically: Back to jewel cases again. As always there's a lyrics booklet, this time all in pseudo-handwritten font.

THE WORM'S HEART

1) The Fear (Flipped); 2) So Now What (Flipped); 3) Heartworms (Flipped); 4) Dead Alive (Flipped); 5) Half a Million (Flipped); 6) Rubber Ballz (Flipped); 7) Mildenhall (Flipped); 8) Fantasy Island (Flipped); 9) Cherry Hearts (Flipped); 10) Painting a Hole (Flipped); 11) Name for You (Flipped)

An equally baffling and exciting run of increasingly out-there alternative versions that turn out to achieve something the original songs didn't.

I can’t say I’ve encountered another album like The Worm’s Heart. Artists re-recording and reinterpreting their old songs is nothing new and in fact is almost expected at this stage as the big anniversary numbers roll in. It’s not too uncommon either to hear a specific album with a new sound: e.g. Jim James, Conor Oberst and Manchester Orchestra among many others have released twin versions of a particular album of theirs to showcase the same songs in a different way. But then there’s The Worm’s Heart, borne out of James Mercer’s absolutely bizarre whim to create two completely unique versions of each song written for the prior year's Heartworms. And it's unique in the very definition of the word: these aren’t acoustic versions or slightly tweaked arrangements or anything even remotely similar to what was heard on Heartworms. The hooks and melodies on this album are the same as they were on Heartworms, but the rest is something completely new and off the wall. The sunshine pop of “Name for You” has become a 80s Depeche Mode indebted synth brooder, the formerly acoustic “Mildenhall” has found a fuzz pedal and a goofball garage rock attitude, “Dead Alive” is a goth ballad now, “Half a Million” goes reggae. Anything is a fair game and Mercer turns the previous The Shins album into a series of stylistic experiments of any genre or idea he could never incorporate into actual proper album of his, but this time? This time he's indulging in his wildest ideas.

The Worm’s Heart is obviously a mixed bag - how on earth could it not be? - but it's actually shocking how rarely the "flipped" versions stumble completely despite everything that's going on. In fact, in some measures this is arguably a better album than the actual Heartworms and that's because Mr Mercer's wild ride has a really infectious sense of fun. Heartworms was a weird album but it held itself back in some ways - in comparison, this is completely unhinged and I'm really responding to it. It's a complete mess of course, but in a positive way - in a manner that makes its incohesiveness its own mad rabbit hole that holds together by the sheer audacity of it. I don't think anyone could argue that this album represents Mercer or The Shins at their best, and at the end of the day as the melodies and hooks remain the same there's only so much that these transformations can do to uplift them - but it's simply so much fun whenever artists just have a go at whatever the hell they want and this is an album dedicated to that forbidden fruit of playing songs in styles you would never dream of otherwise recording because of some take on self-imposed artistic integrity preventing it.

Honestly, quite often The Worm's Heart downright improves Heartworms because Mercer's fearlessness gives him the means to break out of his creative shell in a manner most positive. Take "Heartworms" itself, and how its chorus finally gets the chance to jump out like it shyly backed out of doing on the milquetoast original version, jolting into the front of the race as a warbling, hyperactive synth pop number that’s a blast of energy and joy. I called "Rubber Ballz" one of the weakest songs released on a Shins album in my review of the original album and now its gently thumping acoustic form has a heartfelt sincerity that underlines the strength of the core melody that was practically buried originally. The too-cool-for-school synth pop vibe of “Name for You” is marvellous and an honest delight, a true love letter to a sound Mercer evidently has a great deal of affinity for, and it's actually more engaging than the very typically Shins-esque original version. “Cherry Hearts”, too, has simply evolved and it's now the jangly college rock number that it really should’ve been all along. There are also plenty of takes that simply stand on their own, including that reggae'd up "Half a Million" that starts out like a heart attack as it demonstrates why white indie nerds maybe shouldn't touch reggae, but it shifts and changes shortly thereafter to incorporate so much more than just a store value band island groove and by its end it's neck to neck with the excellent original; and similarly the new comically funereal "Dead Alive" is just so out there compared to the original (or anything else) that I respect it for it.

As mentioned there are stumbles, but I'm still surprised just how few and far between they are. Namely, "Fantasy Island" has had the least changes and it's a little better than the dire original but not exactly notably so, and "Mildenhall" is responsible for a light chuckle when the loose and ramshackle rock riffs start but it takes about half a minute for the joke to grow old: the whole "make an acoustic song into a raw rocker" shtick is the kind of obviousness the rest of the album avoids and it's the most awkward fit in its new guise. "The Fear" is another bar rocker and while a little better, it doesn't really hold up for its whole five-ish minutes. But for a random pick 'n' mix album like this, roughly a quarter of weaker cuts is an unexpectedly high batting average - and even they're, y'know, memorable which is something I can't say from everything on Heartworms. The original album is one I'm still not entirely sure where exactly I stand on it even though I've reviewed and rated it and all, and yet I am increasingly confident in saying that this is the better version of the two despite how it's got the air of a weird alternate universe bootleg album instead of the artist's genuine vision. I've got a soft spot for albums that make it their central motto to keep surprising and which revel with a kind of creative frenzy that spray their inspiration everywhere and pray it hits the goal; but where even the misses have a rush of excitement to them. I repeat the word "fun" a lot with The Worm's Heart but that's ultimately why I appreciate it so much - it removes some of the self-seriousness that Mercer's been crippled by since Port of Morrow, and as a result his musical touch has grown warmer again even when he's doing a whole album out of cosplaying as his personal favourite acts.

Physically: Jewel case with a lyrics booklet, exactly how it was on Heartworms but with colours inverted all across the board. I quite like it.