In terms of rock ‘n roll time, an eight-year break is an eternity. Unless a band spends eight years recording a masterpiece or nursing a killer reunion tour, chances are the rest of the music world has moved on by the time it resurfaces. Then again, Circulatory System (and most Elephant Six bands in general) seems to operate outside of traditional rock ‘n roll time continuum anyhow.

Formed by Will Cullen Hart in 2000 after his other main project, Olivia Tremor Control, decided to take a breather, Circulatory System stands as another loose conglomeration of Elephant Six buds. In 2001, the group released it’s eponymous debut—a colossal helping of psychedelic guitars, smart orchestration, and loads ‘o quirk—along with a “remix” of that album in the same year, but has been silent ever since.

So why has Hart waited until 2009 to post a follow-up? Well, the singer attributes the interruption to multiple sclerosis, a condition he was diagnosed with a few years back. The condition purportedly delayed the recording of their new album, Signal Morning, but also prompted the Olivia Tremor Control camp to start playing together again(!).

Given that lengthy gap, a lot of potential avenues for analyzing Signal Morning are somewhat skewed. For starters, Circulatory System isn’t trying to make a career out of this music—it sounds more like friends coming together to capture energy on tape to share it with like-minded friends and fans alike. With intentions like that, who cares if this record doesn’t “measure up” in any traditional sense? Hart also admits that the chronology of songwriting varies dramatically, with some of the initial demos dating as far back as 1993. So to compare Hart’s ideas circa 2001 to their 2009 iteration is somewhat baseless.

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“This is a man with arms open wide/a sonic shoulder for you to cry,” Jeff Tweedy sings on “Wilco (the song),” the lead-off track from the alt-rocker’s seventh proper LP. In what proves to be one hell of a bait-and-switch, Tweedy insists that despite the “knife in your back” or the “rough road” you may travel down, “Wilco will love you, baby.” Taken at face value, the lyric is a sweet (if blatantly easier-said-than-done) sentiment, and the sort of line that begs to be parroted back in concert.

So what’s the catch? Well, let’s just say Tweedy and Co. spend the next 40 minutes prompting you to cry on that shoulder of theirs…though only if you’re paying close enough attention.

For Wilco stalwarts, the irony shouldn’t be much of a surprise—Tweedy has long established himself as one of the premiere bittersweet songsmiths of the aughts. What’s particularly striking about Wilco (the album), rather, is how straightforward it feels. It’s Tweedy’s most musically tame effort since Being There (and yes, that includes Sky Blue Sky), despite being as emotionally pluming as some of the best cuts off of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost Is Born.

And I’m no sentimentalist—I swoon over the experimentalism of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot as much the next nerd, but I’m not keen on holding the band hostage to itself. So let me be clear: Wilco (the album) isn’t a weak album because it’s straightforward—it’s weak because the music often fails to do Tweedy’s words and ideas justice.

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On the one hand, you need to lend Death Cab some cred. Even as the four-piece has transitioned from indie to major (Barsuk to Atlantic), they’ve still had the chutzpah to mess with their sound a bit, risking the longevity of their “commercial” careers for the sake of progress. Their first post-Barsuk effort (Plans) had its fair share of issues—sometimes kitschy, sometimes boring, often times forcibly “catchy”—yet it still rose to the occasion, balancing a new set of expectations imposed on the band. Case in point: a song like “Soul Meets Body” may have been overplayed in 2005, but it still sounded like nothing else on the radio at the time. Not bad, Death Cab.

Three years later and we’re handed “I Will Possess Your Heart,” the new single from the band’s forthcoming LP Narrow Stairs. Lo’ and behold, it picks up where “Different Names for the Same Thing” (my favorite track off of Plans) left off: gorgeously spacious production, a hefty bassline, McGerr’s trusty drumming, and even some dissonant guitar work. And holy smokes! The track stretches out for 8.5 minutes! Fuck you, Atlantic!

That may sound like a marathon, but it’s worth it (right?). For about a minute and a half (roughly 3:11 to 4:33), the song finds euphony—feedback engulfs the track, a vibraphone accentuates Gibbard’s sleek piano part, and some hushed “na-na-na-na-na-na-na”s creep in subtly.

Then 4:34 hits. And it all goes to shit.

Gibbard coos off perhaps his sappiest writing yet: “How I wish you could see the potential—the potential of you and me. It’s like a book elegantly bound, but in a language that you can’t read. Cuz ya, you gotta spend some time, love. You gotta spend some time with me. And I know that you’ll find love.” (Drum roll, ladies and gentlemen.) “I will possess your heart.”

At this point, there’s no saving it. We’ve already heard the music for over five minutes (Harmer is still playing that bassline) and even that organ overlay falls flat.

To quote Gibbard, the song is “elegantly bound” but seemingly in a foreign language (Who talks like that? No, honestly, who?) Sure, maybe Death Cab’s songs were always sentimental, but transparent? Hardly. Excuse me while I throw on “Company Calls Epilogue” and mourn the death of a talented lyricist.

(And fuck you, Atlantic!)

“I Will Possess Your Heart” can be heard at www.myspace.com/deathcabforcutie