It may have taken four questionable years, taken the inevitable “it’s not you, it’s me” by Polyvinyl Records and a cataclysmic soul searching for the entire band of Decibully for their third album to happen, but here it is. And so here is another reason why the “worth the wait” saying gets more annoyingly true. 
World Travels Fast is a myriad of instrumental talents, as all six members bust out their best nerdy work sounding out sleigh bells, accordion, banjo, lapsteel, shakers and other random accompaniments to a well-rounded rock project.
It’s definitely a deeper (both emotionally and progressively) album than either of the previous two; besides being so musically talented, you’ll immediately hear an overwhelming presence of reverberation that keeps a ribbon of drama flowing evenly throughout the whole thing.
“You love sad songs,” William Seidel repeats in “Hour Of Noise” (which has the best musical effect on the entire album—a creepy, haunting saw), and you can expect a similar tone the entire listen. I’d pair this play with a day driving in cold mid-western slush, trying to figure out what you’re going to do next with your life. It’s the perfect partner, because rather than leave you crying in your Starbucks, it will soundtrack a solid revolution (auto-biographical, I imagine). Listen to echo-ey “Don’t Believe The Hype,” you’ll get it.
There are slower acoustic performances like self-titled “World Travels Fast” or strings-sidled “Little White Girl,” if you are indeed looking for a sappy soul-damaging tryst with musical heartbreak. There’s an amazing track called “Baby’s Mama,” that must be some homage to Sting right before he got all ethereal on us.
For an upswing, push play on the tracks fired up with enough Mutemath and The Music that again, keep out an air of depression (that would be “Somewhere In The World” and “Get In the Car,” for starters).
Some other thoughts while digging this (as you inevitably will), is that you realize it’s just damn well beautifully sung. And it seems as if something is missing. Could it be…keys? Heaven forbid an indie band bring back a modern day revival missing some dripping piano hook. And true, they use an insane amount of instruments that may confuse the listener on what genre to book it in. But here it’s not a bad thing, the full presence of noise is so sophistically placed that you, too, may want to start learning how to break out a saw and make it croon.
If an album isn’t heartbreaking, but it isn’t empowering, and can’t really be spun when you need a sick beat for a dance party, what do you call it? You bring to mind this one, and use it to exemplify reality.
You can stream, buy, download or do whatever you want here.
Decibully: myspace
