ith Goodbye Enemy Airship The Landlord is Dead , Do Make Say Think released what was probably the best album of 2000, the finest collection of songs to come out of the Constellation camp and one of the most perfect albums of the past five years. It was an unthinkable step forward for the band and it solidified their status as masters of illusion.


Do Make Say Think’s music is never what it seems. It sounds organic, but it is a product of the mixing board, the result of countless overdubs and sound effects. At times its jazziness jumps up and dances for you; other times it sounds like dub or above average post rock. Most importantly, Do Make Say Think songs rarely affect you the same way twice. Every Do Make tune has the potential to either place you in a cold, empty bed dreading another night alone or to transport you to your bedroom window on a summer morning, gazing with amazement at how the blue sky harmonizes with the swaying, green leaves of a nearby tree.


It’s magic, and on Goodbye Enemy Airship the tricks were new and awe-inspiring. and Yet and Yet , while surely some of the best music released this year, uses much of the same repertoire, leaving one feeling like the son of a magician rather than a participant chosen from the audience.


But and Yet and Yet is still a gorgeous album, and not the least bit redundant. There is a more prominent space rock influence, the tone of the album is far brighter than any past Do Make release and there seems to be more energy asserting itself sonically rather than just creatively.


The songs follow the same formula present in a number of Constellation bands: two or three movements per song, repeated infinitely, constantly growing in volume and deepening in texture. Where Godspeed You Black Emperor and A Silver Mt. Zion tend to burst with frustration, Do Make Say Think begins to fly. It’s airy, loose, rhythmic music, which, rather than build thunderclouds, builds a sunrise: comforting, reliable and warm.


That warmth is present throughout the album. “Classic Noodlanding” feels like driving a convertible by yourself, free and sun-drenched, isolated but independent; “End of Music” makes you want to run; toward something, not away from it; and “Soul and Onward”, with its brisk, I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One guitar line and theremin-like vocals make me think this album should have come out in August - there’s so much light, heat and happiness during the day, but uncertainty and premature nostalgia creep into your thoughts at night.


It’s that sense of sadness - that contrast and variety - that made Goodbye Enemy Airship so engaging. and Yet and Yet would benefit from diversity. The thick, driving drone rock at the conclusion of “End of Music” is stellar, the guitar interplay of “Reitschule” is tense and assertive and the thick dubbiness of “White Light Of” is refreshing moodiness, but these are the most striking examples of contrast on the album and they are too few. Rather than wading into a boundless ocean, the album feels more like swimming in a pool. It’s a refreshing luxury, but it’s nowhere near as deep or as enveloping.


and Yet and Yet suffers only because it is being compared to its predecessor, a fate that awaits a fair number of bands (Hot Snakes, Isis, Outkast) who also released career-definers in 2000. Goodbye Enemy Airship was an unpredictable, eclectic revelation. and Yet and Yet is more like a book you’ve read several times, but you only re-read the books you love. The plot holds no surprises, the motifs are all clear and the dialogue is all but memorized, but it can still be the perfect way to end your day.