The band we all believe in Cerberus Shoal depart for Europe, riding their best album yet BY SAM PFEIFLE

Cerberus Shoal are less a band and more a reflection of your new standard American family. They’re a collection of people who live and make their fortunes together, but members seem to come and go along the way. A few might grow up and move out into a place of their own. Others might marry in. Along the way, priorities change: "Well, if Johnny’s not going to college, let’s spend that savings account on something fun."

Over the course of roughly a decade and 11 (or so) albums, Cerberus Shoal have rejiggered their familial personality a number of times, though they’ve never veered from making some of the most adventurous and interesting music on the contemporary music scene. Each album served as a document of their songwriting and playing at that point in time, but always seemed to be a step or two behind where they stood at the time of its release.

That’s why it’s time to get excited about The Land We All Believe In. "I think it’s for sure the most poignant record we’ve made," says Shoal stalwart Chriss Sutherland, "and it represents our development at this time, represents all the different sides of music we enjoy, from pop to dark to everything in between. We rehearsed the music a lot, and toured with it, and tried to make a record that didn’t have anything that wasn’t unnecessary, tried not to waste a second."

Sutherland is very honest about his and their music, and has never represented it as anything other than what you got out of your stereo. Inherent in his enthusiasm for this record seems to be an understanding that some of their older records may have been just a tad masturbatory.

"We’ve been doing it a while now," he says, "so it was a lot easier six or seven years ago to just not give a crap what anybody thought. Now, though we’re definitely not ruled by [how we’re received], the system of feedback has played into us, and while we still have the same message . . . now we’re like ‘Wow, we could put it in this vessel.’ But it’s not that contrived at all, that music came to us pretty naturally over time."

For a group that prides itself on its groundbreaking individuality, it’s probably hard to admit that they might be a little interested in whether people might actually be listening to their records over and over again.

Trust me, people will be listening to this new record over and over again.

"In this music, when we toured with it, it was received better than anything we’ve every toured with," Sutherland admits. "The response was just overwhelmingly better than any live show we’ve taken on the road. We sold way more CDs than ever before — of course, none of those CDs sounded like what we were playing."

Now, as they get ready to depart for a European tour that will last through May, they can’t say that anymore. They hunkered down in the studio throughout this past December and January and put to tape the music that had them so excited over the past year.

It’s a music that seems to maximize their talents like never before. I’ve always thought that seeing the band was so different from listening to their records. Live, they were enthralling, so in tune with each other and able to make their rhythms and melodies work for them. On record, without the human element, it could get cacophonous and confusing. What was I supposed to be listening for?

On Land, that question never enters my head. It’s beautifully structured and thought out, the opening title track soothing me for four minutes before devouring me with the epic 11-minute "Wym," which opens almost hip-hop, rock-your-body mania, Sutherland spouting words that don’t seem to actually be words. It’s got a tremendous upbeat, sharing a bit with the Broadway show, a xylophone providing a taut melody, followed by drunken accordion making for a carnivalesque whirlwind of sound.

Half-way through, the song peters to just percussion, off-kilter and drowsy, the accordion looping, and some dripping-water kinds of sounds, however they’re made. This cycling round and round is classic Cerberus. They build and layer, so that you can watch their songs evolve and grow like the pea plant you sowed in sixth grade and watched each and every day and tried to make out just what was different from one day to the next, barely realizing that by week’s end it had grown a full inch.

Then the vocals come back in, first over the simple background, then in full force to bookend the piece with the opening — Sutherland’s delivery is mad and forceful, crazed, and the guitar that follows is a perfect blend of Middle Eastern chord structures and punk simplicity.

Never has an 11-minute song seemed shorter.

Even better is the 16-minute "Spy." After taking a while to get moving, assorted bells and percussion instruments are joined by an eerie female vocal, pretty even with the mix so it’s ghostly and ethereal, part of the music more than supported by it.

Colleen Kinsella and Erin Davidson combine on an echoing "da da da da da dum," repeated, followed by the rattling of what just might be bones.

Halfway through comes a haunting voice, letting us know that the "the mind comes with booby traps" and that "if you stay in one room long enough, the questions start to change you." The voice moves from relative sanity to outright horror-movie stuff, the mad doctor you never want to meet: "Sharpen all your instruments, prepare for surgery."

Really: eeeek.

But redemption starts with guitar, bass, and drums all playing along to an indie-pop aesthetic at the 12-minute mark, before entering into a full-on pop explosion that’s a dead ringer for the Cranberries — seriously — just all pretty and sweet like bubble gum and the mall, the two gals’ voices wrapping around each other, soprano and higher.

It’s all so Belly, oh so Belly.

What a great story-arc of a song, emotional rollercoaster, a hopeful tune, something to tell us that, at the end of the day, we’ll all be singing pop songs and appreciating the beauty all around us.

I’m tempted to attribute some of this hopefulness to newest Shoalster Tim Morin, formerly of Vacationland (how’s that for musical night and day?), even though a lot of this material was being worked on before his arrival.

"Tim definitely brought a freshness and was so enthusiastic," says Sutherland. "He came to us at a time when we were really dragging ass, and we were thinking about not using a drummer at all, and he kind of came in and saved the day in a lot of ways." Former drummer Tom Rogers was taking a child-rearing break, and "we were up against the wall and he was really looking for something and came to us with a smile on his face, really reinvigorated us and reminded us that this can be fun.

"And he’s great, too, in that he wanted to tour full throttle. He said, ‘I’ll do whatever we need to do.’ "

That willingness to tour is certainly important as Cerberus Shoal set off for Europe, first hitting Amsterdam (poor fellows) and then moving on to Poland and other Eastern European stops. Sutherland’s, not surprisingly, looking forward to it: "It’s a much more developed and fostered situation, where here none of that exists, zero. Here in the states it’s lucky to get a wage that covers food and lodging. Over there, food and lodging comes with every show, often breakfast comes with a show, so you get food and lodging, which is most of your expenses. There’s as much respect and professionalism there for a band that plays in front of 100 to 150 people as for one that plays to 3000 people."

Why does he think that is?

"I just think it’s historically the culture is more attuned to the necessity of art and music," says Sutherland. "It’s something that they deem important. They’re more lenient toward their punks. It’s like, they may not be into it but they realize it’s important."

With Cerberus Shoal, I think Portland has often taken that attitude: You might not be into them, but they’re important. With this album, you might actually be into them.

Sam Pfeifle can be reached at sam@phx.com

Cerberus Shoal play a CD-release show, with Crank Sturgeon and Harpswell Sound, at SPACE, in Portland, on Friday, April 8. Call (207) 828-5600.