I first got into the music of Nickel Creek about a year and a half ago when a college friend, who normally likes cryptic rock bands like Radiohead and R.E.M., recommended them to me. She explained that they were a young bluegrass trio with stellar musicianship who had a knack for good songwriting. Being a fan of eclectic music and having recently developed a fondness for some folksier types of music, my curiosity was definitely piqued.

What I discovered was an interesting mixture of forlorn love songs, folklore-inspired story songs, and a truckload of instrumental prowess. No way these guys were younger than I was. And no way this delicious mixture of acoustic guitar, fiddle, and mandolin was coming from San Diego, California. Beachfront cities are supposed to give birth to fun-loving alt-rock bands like Switchfoot, right? This was certainly an unexpected twist, but hey, chalk up one more cool band for my home state.

Now we all know what happens to bands whose main draw is their instrumental skill and who play in a definite niche genre. Someone always signs them and overproduces them into oblivion, attempting to capitalize on their radio potential while minimizing the non-pop aspect of their music. Trends in country music are especially guilty of this, and while it's a misnomer to label Nickel Creek a "country" band in the first place, it wouldn't have surprised me to see them get a total Shania Twain-style pop makeover on their second major label release. My fears of this were very nearly confirmed when a friend of mine heard one of their new singles on the radio, and reported to me that the song used some sort of programming or a synthesized effect or something that shouldn't have fit at all with Nickel Creek's sound. Between this and a few early reports that their second disc was a departure from the formula that worked so well on their self-titled, my excitement was a bit dampened.

But my first few listens to This Side made me wonder why the heck I ever listened to any of these other voices. The "synthesized" song was nowhere to be found, which leads me to believe that it was only a cheesy radio remix of a song that was otherwise too cool for its audience. While the album only contains one instrumental, and the remaining vocal songs can take quite a while to sink in (none of them have quite the same stunning effect as "The Lighthouse's Tale" from the last album), I've found that this album is far from the pop sellout that I had expected. In fact, it takes the band in the opposite direction.

Instead of choosing to take their winning recipe and run with it, Sean and Sara Watkins and Chris Thile have chosen to strengthen their songwriting skills, weaving together innovative instrumental passages with lyrics that are sure to make most fans scratch their heads in confusion. This is the traditionally misunderstood sophomore album, where the songs turn unexpected corners, and nothing is easily categorized by its subject matter. It's one of those "underdog" albums that critics will praise and purists will scorn. And despite the fact that it doesn't "rock", and there's nary a drum to be heard here, it might just be one of the finest examples of "alternative" music in recent history.

Smoothie Song
The album's lone instrumental track is curiously placed at the beginning, and at first it might lull existing fans into a false sense of security. It's every bit as lively as "Ode to a Butterfly" from the last album, except this time there's no banjo - just a tasty jam during which Sean's guitar and Sara's violin chase each other back and forth as if the two siblings were playing tag in their local schoolyard, with Chris's mandolin attempting to play referee. It would be totally unfair to take this song as a representation of the album, and yet I have to admit it's my favorite track on the disc.

Spit on a Stranger
Honey, I'm a prize and you're a catch and we're a perfect match...
Ready for something weird? Just as you're catching your breath after the abrupt ending of "Smoothie Song", Chris breaks in with a jaunty falsetto verse. While the title "Spit on a Stranger" might conjure up images of a backwoods, O Brother, Where Art Thou? type of song, what the trio has actually done here is taken a song by the underground alternative band Pavement and turned it on its ear. The end result is a bit more chipper than the original, as Chris addresses a person who seems to be afraid of change - perhaps his former self - and asserts that he is "a bitter stranger". He doesn't have much respect for that old stick in the mud - he'd rather "try the things you never tried". As if to pay homage to the song's grungy roots, the band throws in a fuzzy electric guitar, which is a completely non-bluegrass thing to do, but it works well with the mood of the song. I love the sudden ending to this one - "I'll be the one that leaves you high, high, hiiiiiiiiigh..."

Speak
I stood in the way pretending that I was the vine
But no failure will proceed from a mouth that drinks its wine...
The band settles into a mellower groove for the first of a few songs that seem to be about relationships gone awry. The melody is jaunty enough, but it's offset by lyrics such as "I sat down next to a living hell". Sean and Sara trade off vocals for this one, and it's sweet to hear her voice again even if it sounds like the band is jumping back and forth between two different songs. Perhaps it's meant to be a dialogue between two people. There are also whispered voices in the background at one point, adding just a touch of psychedelia to an otherwise straightforward song. The siblings do an excellent job of anchoring this one down while Chris sprinkles in just the right amount of mandolin. I can never get enough of that instrument.

Hanging by a Thread
There's a certain kind of pain that can numb you
There's a type of freedom that can tie you down...
At first listen, this was a difficult song to get into. It's slow and it sounds like the band is stretching themselves a bit thin here - but I guess that would fit the title. The guitar and mandolin pick out a mournful melody while Chris laments barely being able to hold onto his sanity without a certain special someone around. It's stylistically similar to "Out of the Woods" from the last album, though I'd say it's even more sparse, even coming to a full stop after the final chorus (which admittedly sounds like it's pushing the singer's range), and then chiming in again with its gentle but haunting melody.

I Should've Known Better
Your love meant trouble from the day we met
If you want your things, they're on the front step...
If you didn't think Nickel Creek had any attitude, then you've got another think coming. Gentle thumping on what sounds like a box or a guitar case sets the rhythm, and then a very forceful acoustic riff kicks in. This song is an almost bluesy exercise in bitterness, with each instrument offering just enough rhythmic sass to make you completely forget that this band doesn't have a drummer. Sara takes the lead on this one, and it's odd hearing her attempt such a sour break-up tune when her voice is so sweet (she‘s a real cutie too, but I digress). Perhaps it's the innocence in her voice that helps to get the point across, because she's basically telling a guy who hurt her to hit the road, and the tone in her voice helps you to read between the lines and see that she never expected to have been hurt this badly. You can tell that producer (and well-respected bluegrass artist) Allison Krauss had fun allowing the kids to spread their creative wings here - the nervous strings that meander throughout the song are almost disturbingly weird at times, but they too help to paint a picture of an otherwise nice person who has been betrayed and is speaking out of anger and frustration.

This Side
You dream of colors that have never been made
You imagine songs that have never been played...
The record's title track may have been the single that my friend heard on the radio, but it doesn't sound a thing like what she described. It's probably the closest thing stylistically to some of their past hits, but that doesn't stop Chris and Sara from tossing in a frilly instrumental fill here and there. Sean takes the vocal lead, and his words are cryptic, but incredibly revealing when you dig into them. "It's foreign on this side", he admits in the chorus, and throughout the song he describes a world that attempts to keep him and his buddies from being creative. "They will try to buy you and your mind", he comments, and it's certainly a chilling reminder of how the industry can chew up promising young artists and spit them out in no time. The video drives this point home further, as the trio plays and sings to a wall, having turned their backs on a confused and disgruntled audience. They later imagine themselves jumping through the wall and ending up on a stage with brilliant lights and a huge, enthusiastic crowd forming a mosh pit in front of them. It's a bizarre, but fitting vision of a world in which true art and creativity are valued over the need to cater to what a particular audience expects, and it seems to indicate that Nickel Creek would enjoy making the very same music just as much even if no one were listening.

Green and Gray
We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost
With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most...
Chris Thile penned this brilliant song, which also seems to explore the perils of celebrity. Sean leads off with a flowing 3/4 rhythm, and Sara blows in like the breeze with a delicious fiddle interlude. The song uses an odd analogy to describe the trappings of perfectionism - the green and gray areas on a dartboard (which I believe are outer areas that you generally want to avoid hitting) are the basis for the song's title. Chris describes a character who is "most likely to be loved to death" - perhaps he's a star athlete or a musical virtuoso, someone who has been put on a pedestal by his audience and who is afraid to fail. Tragically, his fear causes him to live a very lonely lifestyle, where he's unable to let anyone in, and each night after the spotlight fades, he's left alone in a hotel room with "a notebook and discman for friends". Sounds like someone wrote this as a means of catharsis while dealing with the pressure inherent in creating the follow-up to a hit debut album, doesn't it? It's a brilliant treatment of the scenario, and I love the band's newfound penchant for unresolved endings.

Seven Wonders
He can't enfold the sun or moon or wind within his hand
But count the times he'll shout the Great I Am...
This is one of the slower songs that I haven't really had the chance to decipher yet. Sara takes the lead again here, and as the mandolin and guitar gently flow beneath her, she sounds as if she's singing about a loss of innocence. "Seven wonders crowed the man, knowing six are gone, and how the grand illusion lingers on." Perhaps it's the continued story of the man in the previous song, as he slowly realizes he's not perfect and can't save the world. The song does suffer from a few moments where trying to be purposefully different doesn't work as well for the band - there's an awkward mandolin line that ascends to a very high note at the end of each chorus, and it just sounds like it meanders until it comes to a rest back on its home key. Also, a few of Sara's rhymes are a bit contrived. But not a bad attempt overall.

House Carpenter
I could have married the kings daughter fair
And she would have married me
But I have forsaken her crowns of gold
And all for the love of thee...
If you're looking for a tragic folk song akin to "The Lighthouse's Tale", then I'm sad to say that this is the closest you'll come. Actually, given this song's traditional origins (I believe it's an old British folk tune), it probably has more in common with "The Fox" in terms of its language. But it's a slow, weepy ballad about a sailor who convinces a housewife to leave a stable marriage to a house carpenter and rejoin her old flame on the high seas. I guess I imagine songs like these as being better suited for drinking your woes away in ye olde pub rather than the dreadfully slow and repetitive take that the band has provided here. I don't mind when these guys are slow and sparse usually; it's just that the song is comprised of verse after verse of the same tune with very little to break the monotony, because that's how they wrote folk songs back in the day. It just doesn't retain my attention like "Lighthouse" did, and consequently, when the ship sinks and claims the adulterers' lives at the end of the song, I don't feel the tears welling up inside like I did at the end of the aforementioned song. Definitely the weakest track on the album.

Beauty and the Mess
Ain't that what you want them to know?
All they get of you is what they get out of the show...
Sara shows off a twisted sort of brilliance here by following up "House Carpenter" with a lively and upbeat (albeit messy) song about the temptation to put a face on before one's audience. This is one of those songs that, like a good Dave Matthews Band composition, takes forever to catch on to the rhythm, because Chris and Sean have a strange habit of tossing in an extra strum in between each of Sara's lines, and the chorus just comes whipping through without allowing Sara to stop and catch her breath. It's another instance of the instruments chasing each other around, much like "Smoothie Song", except here they purposefully interfere with the meter of the song. The pun on "Beauty and the Beast" may make for an awkward title, but the song stops just short of being too clever for its own good.

Sabra Girl
Now you just told me that friendship is all
I'm forced to repair the breach in my wall...
This one is the only other song on the album that strikes me as a bit dull. Sara begins and ends the song almost completely acapella, and other than a brief instrumental interlude, the band is once again bogged down by verse after repetitive verse. The band also shows less proficiency in making it sound convincing when they mess with the meter here, resulting in a few awkward rhythmic slips at the end of a few verses. It just isn't working for me. I looked up "sabra", and it appears to be a term for a native-born Israeli, so there may be an interesting story behind the song (perhaps it's another traditional song; I know the band didn't write it), but on the surface it sounds like one too many forlorn songs of love and friendship lost have worked their way into an otherwise brilliant album.

Young
It's not like I wanna get married
I never asked you to kiss me
Just don't want you to be sorry you didn't try...
The band picks up the pace again here, giving us a jumpy little song about being a naïve kid in love. Chris gets his chance to be sassy this time around - and instead of being bitter like Sara was in "I Should've Known Better", he sounds almost apologetic, as he attempts to deliver the classic "You're a nice girl, but..." line. Yep, it's a breakup song, but it's also confessional - he realizes that the mistake he made was his own, falling head over heels too quickly and realizing that he promised her too much too soon. (Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.) He explains that he's just not mature enough to marry her, and he doesn't want to hold her down. He sounds almost bemused as he asks, "Are you sure you're so sure about me?" It's another sad tale of innocence lost and hearts being broken, but hey, at least it's upbeat.

Brand New Sidewalk
You cry about where fame sent you
Without a plan of attack...
The album ends on an almost medieval note with more haunting guitar and violin passages from Chris and Sean. The oddly-titled song seems to be a story of a young couple coming full circle, having their relationship tested, and returning to the home of their childhood mischief in order to be made. The metaphor of pressing your hands into wet cement seems to be used here as an analogy for choices in life that can't be undone, that affect your future in strange ways. It's a sweet song, and I love the church bells in the background, but I think it's gonna go over a lot of people's heads, and I'm sure I'm not totally getting it. Oh well, in my book, that's the hallmark of a good artist - someone who doesn't allow me to totally get it at first, but leaves me intrigued enough to keep trying.

I'll make the obvious pun here and say that this album shows us a different "side" of Nickel Creek than most of us were expecting. It's encouraging to see a young band pushing themselves instead of just churning out hit's the easy way, and while it may not earn them much more than the begrudged spin that country radio stations seem to occasionally grant them, I'd say it's the braver and more fulfilling route for them to take, because it's earning them credibility where it matters most - in the eyes of fans across the board who have vastly differing tastes in music. Sometimes, when the world is telling you that the grass is greener on the other side, you've just gotta scale the picket fence and escape the suburbs altogether, leaving your footprints in the wet cement along the way.

ALBUM WORTH:
Smoothie Song $2
Spit on a Stranger $2
Speak $1.50
Hanging by a Thread $1
I Should've Known Better $1.50
This Side $1
Green and Gray $2
Seven Wonders $1
House Carpenter $.50
Beauty and the Mess $2
Sabra Girl $.50
Young $1
Brand New Sidewalk $1
TOTAL: $17

Band Members:
Sean Watkins: Guitar, vocals
Sara Watkins: Fiddle/violin, vocals
Chris Thile: Mandolin, banjo, bouzouki, vocals

Website: http://www.nickelcreek.com

Great Music to Play While: Up a creek without a paddle.

Recommended: Yes