I guess I must've been around 17. A junior in high school endowed with a pitifully small penis, my semen-encrusted pinkies had gotten a hold of the Cure's Disintegration. It wasn't long before I got into the habit of sitting in the dark, "identifying" with Robert Smith, tears streaking my cheeks as I pondered the meaninglessness of life and the reality that I'd never bag a cheerleader. It's funny now, but I still avoid putting Disintegration on, for fear of an unflattering outburst of melancholy.

Disintegration's always been striking to me in the way its combination of flowing, layered instruments and Smith's voice produced a sum greater than their parts. It was an evocative, emotional album, that belongs in the collection of every near-suicidal teen. Interestingly, Seely's Winter Birds is striking in some of the same ways-- it pulls unlikely instruments and arrangements together with depressingly airy lyrics and impeccable production. Seely have clearly made strong headway since their 1996 debut Julie Only-- Winter Birds makes advances and takes risks that pay off.

Crossing a musical divide somewhere in the lonely space between Laika, Stereolab and My Bloody Valentine, Winter Birds sets itself apart with the inspiring dissonance that lurks in every song. It may be the high-pitched chimes and backwards guitars in "Alias Grace" or the decidedly Cure-ish synth tones of "Planes Circle Do," but Seely proves here that they've advanced from simple beauty to complex beauty, no mean task. Does it belong in the collection of every black-hearted teen? Possibly, and it may belong in your collection, too, especially since Disintegration is so last decade.

-James P. Wisdom