When comparing Mew to its contemporaries, the Danish quartet finds little similarity within the given realm of modern rock music. The band’s new album, And the Glass Handed Kites, serves as somewhat of a rock opera in which its characters appear then vanish quickly, only to reappear in its later stages in an entirely different form. It’s main roles played by Jonas Bjerre, Bo Madsen, Johan Wohlert and Silas Utke Graae Jorgensen formulate a set of strange electronic ballads that morph into high intensity, guitar-fluttering masterpieces. The striking point that sticks out when analyzing this tale is its lyrics which, while maintaining a slight semblance of individual structure, prove harmful when evaluating the entire album as a whole, completely crush any running theme that could suit for the rock opera basis. Nonetheless, the album is structured so amazingly beautifully with each song effortlessly phases into the next—no rock opera, but the show must go on.

In terms of modern prog rock, And The Glass Handed Kites goes past anything that has honestly found mainstream (or at least indie-mainstream) acceptance in recent years. Somewhere along the way the Mars Volta lost relevance and Dream Theater fell far too deep into a loop of repetitiveness, releasing material for a die-hard fan base that alienated any new listeners. Mew seem to avoid any similarity to prog while fitting in perfectly, proving that an album can be released without falling into a repetitive groove during production.

Bjerre’s effervescent vocals are gracefully synced with synth in just about every song, this is where And The Glass Handed Kites finds its highest points—this is especially true with “Why Are You Looking Grave?” Revisiting your musical idols is something that can be tricky. How does one imitate, while maintaining a flattering profile and remaining individualistic? As the band was changing from little Mews to the Mew of today, My Bloody Valentine and Dinosaur Jr. played key roles in defining the sound that it currently identifies itself with. Then it should be no surprise that J. Mascis appears on two tracks within the album, offering his voice as an disconnected counterpart to Bjerre’s. The band must have told Mascis to go out back and swallow a handful of gravel before recording as he sounds in his prime here, which raises questions as to what was possibly missing from his latest solo material.

Inevitably And The Glass Handed Kite hearkens back to the rock opera comparison in its later stages as its ambient overwhelms and rock harvests a bountiful crop of reverb. And it does so as any good prog album should, proving itself as a point of envy and desire for all those long haired keyboard solo-loving fans who have, over the years, grown tired of having to listen to album after album that tries to sound like A Change of Seasons.

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