Motoring through the wake of June of 44's demise comes Everlasting the Way. Sean Meadows holds the handlebars, his saddlebags full of the history of Lungfish and the Sonora Pine. You may best recall Meadows as the secondary creative force behind June of 44-- the guy whose vocal turns somehow out-stranged Jeff Mueller's, and whose angry guitar tunes gave June of 44 a more pure rock balance to their every Slint-ish leaning.

Long Stretch Motorcycle Hymn Highway is a solo effort in more ways than one. Written as Sean cycled out from New York City and through a giant swath of North America, and set to tape in Italy, Los Angeles and Baltimore, this record reflects the musings of a man in travel. It's an obvious departure from the hostile Meadows we knew, a journey that evokes the road and spaces and time. But if you're remembering all the reviews you read of Modest Mouse's The Lonesome Crowded West, you've taken a wrong turn. This is an album of sparser construction, one that exhibits less June of and more Gastr del. In that tradition, it employs Sean's expected guitar idiosyncrasies and adds more anonymous qualities ushered in by collaborators like June's multi-talented Fred Erskine and Uzeda's Sasha Tilotta at the piano.

The album's first two tracks exemplify the bulk of Long Stretch and Meadows' signature style. Both are hushed acoustic short-takes of the ilk that might have led to eruptions of distorted bass and guitar and Mueller's maritime howls on Engine Takes to the Water. Here, however, Meadows evokes a certain loneliness, as his plucked strings hover alone only briefly. These subtle complaints are followed by more in "From Solar Exodus (Sunburst)," this time uttered by faraway pianos and the off-key trumpet bleats you heard blaring over countless June tracks. As with June of 44, one waffles between labeling this type of artiness "emotive" or "annoying." Regardless, Everlasting allows neither feeling much time for fruition.

Slow on those heels is "One Month Window," wherein a recorded heart monitor bleeps its introduction to a chugging guitar. The sound is urged on by handclaps smacking underneath the record's first lyrical offering: "Only your heart can turn this window into a doorway." Meadows' voice has always made me shudder a little and this incarnation is no different; his idea of a meaningful lyric elicits equally allergic reactions. But you get the joke and the song is idyllic and oddly pretty, and serves as a passable signature piece.

Sadly, similarly nuanced tracks come off hackneyed and trite. The telephone’s interruption of a straining, bleak acoustic in some distant room {"555") retells a well-worn tale of societal and technological encroachment. And it's the same basic concept for "To Star Implosion (Anti-Nova)"-- that distant piano/horn combo competes with the chaos of traffic outside. Nice, I suppose, but nothing new. "Bastimentos by Dug Out" ends this particular Long Stretch with simple, jazzy percussion, soothing, follow-along chords, and a familiar, Sea and Cake-style instrumental aplomb. Provided here is a subtle tying of the loose thematic strands of travel and distance.

Everlasting the Way resembles nothing more than what might have been ousted from middle-period June of 44 sessions. Even the extraneous drum-n-bass experimentation of Him finds momentary echoes in this record's later stages. Those of you never quenched of June-related side projects don't need me to tell you that Long Stretch clings to an easy listenability, or that it contains nothing detestable enough to complain vehemently about. Then again, you probably won't care that it's just as forgettable as the bulk of the material fluttering in the dust left by June of 44's passing.

-Judson Picco