It’s got to be really hard to make a name for yourself as a legitimate artist with individual value when you get your start as a member of a critically acclaimed (and generally badass) band. And if that band is Okkervil River? Well shit. Good luck to you. I won’t pretend to be any kind of pioneer here. I listened to Shearwater’s first four collections with the same cynical ear as everyone else, and took them about as seriously as everyone else did.

Of course, a lot has happened since Palo Santo was reissued by Matador. Shearwater’s frontman Jonathan Meiburg has showed how seriously he takes his “side project” – he recently left Okkervil River. Moreover, Will Sheff has been jettisoned from the group, severing the final tie to the band from which Shearwater emerged, and inviting every cynic and skeptic – myself included – to stand to attention and give the band a fair shake and a chance to stand on its own.

Of course, we didn’t. There wasn’t a whole lot of hype surrounding the release of this record. While there was perhaps a quietly percolating curiosity as to what all the fuss was about that Meiburg would leave Okkervil River just as they seemed to be arriving at the sort of recognition they deserve (a decision widely regarded as an imminently regrettable and short-sighted execution of a perfectly viable career), nobody was waiting expectantly for the latest Shearwater album; no critic foresaw that this record would shock us, turn our heads, and drop our jaws.

But it did. Jonathan Meiburg et. al. have, with quiet confidence, delivered a simple but phenomenal collection of songs. It is coyly ambitious, sweeping, and compelling as hell. There is nary a weak track to be found. Meiburg’s delicate falsetto weaves intricate, beautiful melodies through the band’s pristinely constructed instrumental framework, yielding one of the year’s most stunning surprises. This record boasts a dynamic awareness superior even to that of Okkervil River (let’s face it, the comparisons are inevitable), with no shortage of shocking but still seamless shifts in both tone and volume. Each song is completely arresting; this album uncompromisingly claimed my attention and had me invested from the first note to the last, never letting go in between.

Despite the undeniable vocal similarity Jonathan Meiburg sometimes bears to Will Sheff, Rook is not a record of Okkervil River b-sides, but of beautifully polished, dreamy folk gems. The gorgeous “Home Life” effortlessly weds rootsy acoustic guitars with warm but sparse piano and a soaring vocal line, later seamlessly incorporating strings that would make Owen Pallett shiver and woodwinds that put Sufjan Stevens to shame. “I Was a Cloud” spins a threadbare and forlorn tale of isolation, and is one among the myriad but still extraordinary instances of stark intimacy to be found on this consistently gorgeous record.

Of course, this is not an album without grittier moments. Opening track “On the Death of the Waters” surprises with a dynamic upturn in the second half. The coda of “Lost Boys” is among the record’s most tempestuous moments; here Meiburg’s vocals are almost reminiscent of Spencer Krug. And there’s nothing folksy about “Century Eyes”, a hammering straight shot rocker brimming with attitude.

Modest, tactful, and understated, but never tame, Jonathan Meiburg has well and truly established himself as a perfectly self-sufficient and more than capable songwriter and frontman, which is no small feat given his prior associations. That said, traces of those associations linger, mostly – as mentioned before – in Meiburg’s vocal delivery. Sheff’s influence is clear in this department. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it might make it difficult for Meiburg to shake himself free from the shadow of his former band. But to be perfectly frank, I don’t really care. The record speaks for itself, and anyone who disagrees with that just because of the vocals is not listening to anything besides the vocals, and is thereby completely missing the point. It’s clear from this effort that Meiburg has left himself room to evolve, grow, and further settle into himself. But even now, Rook can stand on its own two feet just fine, and so can Shearwater. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.

9.7 / 10.0