Matador

Not many singer/songwriters would open an album with a loping, 10-minute folk rock epic – of course, that’s part of what separates Kurt Vile from the crowd. He tackles tried-and-true Americana themes – old girlfriends, long journeys, personal odysseys – but he takes as many twists and turns as an ancient muddy river, all while barely singing above a mutter. His fifth album starts out as more of an electric affair than 2011’s Smoke Ring for My Halo. The opening title cut lurches ahead with sleepily flanged guitar and melts into the slow-burner “KV Crimes,” which has one big foot in the classic rock canon. As usual though, Vile’s strengths reside in his heady lyrics and his preternatural knack for pulling catchy riffs out of thin air. The brilliant and Beck-like “Shame Chamber” leads the way ( “Just another day in the shame chamber/Living life to the lowest power” ), while “Girl Called Alex” ruminates on waking dreams and memories ( “I want to live all the time in my fantasy infinity” ), with Vile lolling over the words in a laid-back twang as the guitars and a haunted organ cascade into the distance. Every so often, he touches on the masters – Gram Parsons, Tom Petty, Springsteen, et al. – but with this album, Vile is making a statement that he’s in a class by himself.