ather around kids! Let’s put on our reading glasses, take out our smoking pipe and ask that age old question…no, not the one about the tree falling in the woods. That’s old hat. I want to know whether a musician who spends the large part of his records emoting about his relationships can be taken seriously.

Let’s get a good hard look at our subject: Omaha’s own Tim Kasher. Kasher has fronted the well-liked Cursive for over six years now. Nobody really had to worry about Cursive and the E word (emo, for the uninitiated). They were always a little too loud and clever to be emo. Besides, Kasher spent almost as much time writing songs about writing songs as he did writing about women (save 2000’s Domestica, which was almost exclusively about the nature of relationships.) on Cursive’s records.

His albums for his other band, The Good Life, are another matter entirely. The ferocity of The Good Life discs equates to listening to a Cursive record with the volume stuck on the ‘1’ dial, most of the time. The lyrics are also more centrally focused to Kasher’s relationships (both real and fictional, according to interviews).

The debate can finally be put to rest with the release of Kasher’s latest record for The Good Life, Album Of The Year. Here, Tim and his friends have put together a concept record detailing their protagonist’s romantic exploits over a calendar year. Twelve tracks for twelve months, get it?

Musically, it’s more organic than anything The Good Life has previously recorded. While their two previous full lengths focused on performing solid electronic imitations of The Cure, among others, Album of The Year is a much more guitar driven endeavor.

In fact, the album uses a variety of more ‘classic’ instruments throughout. Some songs lead with Kasher’s strumming acoustic guitar, while occasionally an organ is brought in to take lead, and on one of the highlights of the record, “Notes In His Pockets”, Kasher’s clever tale of a man caught in a web of adultery and lies, the band goes full on electric for an earnest attempt to rock.

I suppose one’s ability to really enjoy the record depends on the listener’s ability to handle guys talking about their relationships. Kasher does everything he can to make them interesting vignettes, though. The album opens with Kasher in the bathroom on “Album of the Year”: “The first time that I met her, I was throwin’ up in the lady’s room stall / She asked me if I needed anything, I said ‘I think I spilled my drink / That’s when it started / Or so I’d like to believe’”. Already Kasher has avoided many of the pitfalls of his more sad sack brethren. He’s not meeting a girl crying in a coffee shop, or sad somebody dumped him. He drank too much and was throwing up. That’s a man’s way to meet a woman if I’ve ever heard one.

The highlight of the record is easily “Inmates”, where Kasher duets with Jiha Lee. Lee plays the part of the frustrated and jilted ex-lover perfectly. Kasher is relegated to back-up vocals on the track, but his voice still helps make it the most memorable of the disc. The way his gruff weariness bounces off of the perfect swoon of Lee’s is not something you hear every day. The lyrics are also some of the strongest of the album: “You were scared, you were lonely, but you must’ve been aware / Life is a series of calluses, this is just another layer / So, build’em up, tough it out, yeah, that’s your skin—don’t let anyone under there”.

I suppose at this point it is up to you, the reader, to decide whether you want to invest your time, money, and effort into listening to Album Of The Year, which is exactly how it should be. Allow me to offer some parting advice: just because a record expresses emotion doesn’t make it bad. This might not be the Album of the Year on my year end list, but it certainly stands as a fine addition to my record collection.