Open [Import]

I keep playing and playing it. The songs here meld together to make something bigger than the whole and, while the style (at least in the opening half of the albus) is different than some of their previous work, I find myself drawn irresistably into the music. As with other CJ works, you get deeper than average lyrics (with actual words in them); complex musicianship; and the rich, haunted voice of Margo Timmins. On first listen you might not "get it", but the songs just stick with you, especially the fine Draggin Hooks.

As the CD progresses, you'll get more and more of the trademark "CJ" sound, starting most notably in "Bread and Wine", with the minor-key guitar licks familiar since at least 'Pale Sun, Crescent Moon' was a fixture in my CD player, but throughout there is something going on to keep you interested and hooked. Their music will never be mainstream, which is fine with me, but I find that I really like and admire the front half to two-thirds of this effort.

If you don't like challenging music, then the persistent "house band for the Prozac Nation" mood might make you hate this CD. But if you do or can overcome the first reaction and give it a chance you'll probably become a CJ's junkie like me.

The Junkies have always written songs about life, about all that it is and the quirkiness that goes along with it. The Timmins Family and Mr. Anton aren't kids anymore and they're no longer recording albums in one day with a single microphone. They're middle-aged now, asking questions that sometimes do not have answers. In fact, the lyrics intentionally do not make any clear conclusions.

It's too bad some people only base this album on how much they like each song. Listen to it over time, and the layers will reveal one of their most underrated albums. But I guess that would be asking too much from the ADHD-prone critics and cynics that require everything Junkies spelled out for them, like musical Cliff's Notes.