After a dozen enjoyable listens, I popped American Water into the car stereo this weekend while cruising the hills of San Francisco and waited for a weak track. Forty- eight minutes and three record stores later I drove home convinced that D.C. Berman has crafted this autumn's most incredible record: twelve portraits of the American landscape that simultaneously beg to be played at every hour of the day, and reclaim the word "poetry" as part of the musical vocabulary. You heard it here first, folks. The Silver Jews have evolved from a Pavement side project into a full- fledged contender for the American indie throne.

American Water reunites Berman with Pavement frontman Steve Malkmus. It's not surprisingly then that most of the songs sound like they would have been just as at home on the last Pavement album, Brighten The Corners. The big difference? Someone must have convinced Malkmus he was Tommy Verlaine, because he delivers some of the most focused, inspired guitar work he's ever done. And then there's the addition of ex- Royal Trux bassist Michael Fellows, whose bluesy approach and punchy bass lines add immeasurably to the album's pastoral, timeless flavor. A muted horn solo here and some added textures there keep the arrangements fresh. It's obvious that a lot of thought went into this record, and every move pays off.

From the opening song, "Random Rules," you know the Silver Jews are onto something big, something which, in Berman's words, should be "hospitalized for approaching perfection." The first half covers considerable territory, from the midnight execution epic "Smith and Jones Forever" to the journey from Malibu to South Dakota in "Federal Dust." In the lilting pop ditty "People" Berman reels off in his laid- back twang one of many strokes of lyrical genius:

People ask people to watch their scotch.
People send people up to the moon.
When they return, well there isn't much.
People be careful not to crest too soon.

On the album's second half, the Silver Jews expand their magna cum Pavement sound to include honky tonk ("Honk If You're Lonely" is sure to become a college radio classic) and a few Dylan-esque takes on the rambling blues ("We Are Real," "Like Like The The The Death"). As the titles suggest, it's not always clear what the heck Berman is singing about. But in the pauses, and in the obtuse phrasing of questions like, "Is the problem that we can't see, or is it that the problem is beautiful to me?": somehow you know what he means.

Just how good is this album? A few years back I bought Silver Jews CDs to pass the time between Pavement releases. Now things may be the other way around. So all hail the Chosen People. It's time to take off your clothes and skinny dip in the American Water.

-Zach Hammerman