I've always been a firm believer in the value of early education. Not because it teaches children state capitals or multiplication tables, but because of the one truly invaluable piece of information you can attain from it: life is invariably unfair. Adults can be completely indifferent or downright evil. Your worth as a human being can be judged entirely on spelling bees and long division. And your intelligence can be your own worst enemy.

Sure, one of the tenets of education is the encouragement of natural intelligence. But being pegged a "brain" can be downright devastating, and not just because of the impact it will have on your social life. No, when you're a "brain," a certain level of work is expected of you. God help you if your first written assignment in third grade sounds like a college dissertation-- everything you ever write after that will be held to ridiculously high standards. While you're getting scorned for an A-, the kid who sits in the back of class and flings boogers at the wall gets a pat on the back and a candy bar for a C+.

Had The Spectrum Between been released by anybody other than David Grubbs, it would garner instant critical acclaim for its impeccable songwriting and instant accessibility. The artist would be declared the new John Denver, and whimsical yuppies around the world would instantly make it a best-selling record. But this is David Grubbs. This is the man responsible for Gastr del Sol and 1998's brilliant The Thicket.

As much as any other musician to come along in the past ten or so years, Grubbs has pioneered new ground for pop music by combining inventive instrumentation and dynamics with cryptic, staggeringly intelligent lyrics and always-impeccable songwriting. With The Spectrum Between, Grubbs breaks away from any kind of avant-garde aesthetic, leaving him with his voice, his acoustic guitar, and 36 minutes' worth of delightful pop songs. And while the record is thoroughly enjoyable, one can't help but feel that Grubbs is capable of something more.

But even if a bit flimsy in comparison to other Grubbs releases, The Spectrum Between provides us with a liberal dose of amazing moments. "Gloriette," the record's undeniable standout, begins innocently enough, with Grubbs strumming his acoustic guitar and singing a pretty vocal melody at a relaxed pace. About half-way through the song, John McEntire contributes his always-inventive drumming, increasing the song's tempo two-fold, and completely shifting its groove. McEntire's welcome entrance is followed by a brief, squealing saxophone solo from Swedish reed player Mats Gustafsson and some additional guitar meanderings courtesy of jazz guitarist Noël Akchoté. Somehow, all these distinct elements combine to create a blissful and compelling song. "Whirlweek" and "Show Me Who to Love" follow a similar formula to a lesser extent, due mainly to McEntire's percussion.

The rest of The Spectrum Between consists largely of mellow acoustic numbers such as "Seagull and Eagull" and "A Shiver in the Timber," and experimental, drone-laden instrumentals like "Stanwell Perpetual" and "Preface." The acoustic tracks never fail to please, with Grubbs' expressive guitar work and occasionally John Denver-esque vocals always remaining agreeable. And the more streamlined nature of these songs make them instantly enjoyable. The two instrumentals are quite good as well, but seem extraneous and out of place in comparison to the rest of the record.

It's hard to find any outstanding flaws in The Spectrum Between. It's a lovely record, and perhaps the first David Grubbs album that your parents will like as much as you do, if not more. Still, rather than forging a new future for pop music, the record's roots are firmly planted in the past, relying on more traditional arrangements and verse-chorus-verse structures. Thus, this thoroughly enjoyable piece of work receives a 7.9, with a heartfelt "I know you can do better" attached.

-Matt LeMay