CLAP YOUR HANDS SAY YEAH//
SOME LOUD THUNDER//
CYHSY/WICHITA//
WORDS: ALEXANDER HENDERSON//

And here's Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's new album, Some Loud Thunder. To answer your first question, yeah, he's still got that voice. For many people, this review is over already. Honestly, I can't do anything to change your mind about Alec Ounsworth (except to remind you that a lot of people couldn't stand Thom Yorke at first, either). But you should keep reading anyway, because if I can convince just one CYHSY-hater to give this album a chance, I'll be able to tell my psychiatrist that I've done my good deed for the week.

CYHSY made quite a splash in 2005 when they showed that you don't have to have a singer that appeals to the masses in order to appeal to the masses (or at least the masses of bloggers). Something about their chromatic blend of the last two decades of indie rock made up for Alec Ounsworth's lazily piercing cat-o'-nine-tails voice. More than made up for, really, considering the fact that the band sold out the largest venue here in town (Chapel Hill) only five months after they played a club half the size, just down the street, with tickets to spare. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah was colorful, catchy and fun; the perfect music for those getting tired of Modest Mouse for the first time, and it made the band famous because it followed a winning formula: pop music with a twist.

But if that was the case two years ago, then the band's new album is more like twisted music with a little bit of pop. The debut's most jarring song, "Clap Your Hands!", would hardly stand out on Some Loud Thunder's tracklist. We have everything here from ersatz klezmer to self-conscious dance pop, from Robert Pollard-esque distorted garage freak-outs to finely polished Pitchfork-approved DIY rock.

This relative eclecticism is part of the secret of Some Loud Thunder's success as an album: there's a little something here for almost everyone. If "Arm and Hammer" is too abrasively stripped down for you, you're only one press of the >>| button away from the smokily seductive "Yankee Go Home", a song that proves that Ounsworth's voice doesn't always have to be like jumping through a ring of fire. Just listen to how the word 'Honolulu' rolls off his tongue. Likewise, "Love Song No. 7" and "Satan Said Dance" complement each other, the former offering a shuffling four and a half minutes of down-tempo, piano driven melancholy that the latter immediately rips to shreds with its blips and bleeps, which add a sense of paranoia to the song's strong rhythm before spiraling out of control near the end in apparent electronic kamikaze. "I know this is not how you thought it would be," Ounsworth sings from the perspective of an alternate devil in a funkier version of hell: "No whips, no chains, just dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing..."

If you don't like Some Loud Thunder, I can understand why. CYHSY has crafted an album that's as confusing as the debut was pleasing, whose component elements clash as often as they mesh, and Ounsworth’s voice is not getting any less divisive. Whether or not the pieces fit together for you largely depends on how you approach the album and even music in general. Some bands play songs; other bands play with their songs. CYHSY is clearly in the latter category. Each song on the album is strongly informed by a few distinctive ideas, and although these ideas don't always connect with each other in predictable ways, they're all effective on their own. There's no denying that Some Loud Thunder is an incredibly imperfect record. But don't overlook the fact that it's still incredible.