Reviews:

Grandaddy's Jason Lytle has never been at a loss for words,especially where the human-machine interface and its effect on the natural worldis concerned. Sumday, the quintet's third album, finds the luxuriantly beardedrock prophet holding forth on his favorite topic with the kind of depth you'dexpect from a ten thousand year old interstellar drifter who, finding himselfsurrounded by an increasingly more suicidal populace, tries to share his wisdomwith whatever of the more perspicacious fools on Spaceship Earth are willing tolend an ear.

And share it he does, with zero pomp and abundant wit. Just by wayof one tiny example, on "The Group Who Couldn't Say," Lytle weaves a charmingtale of office slaves rendered awestruck by the great outdoors. One by one, themembers of the group have their personal epiphanies in the woods, falling andscratching their cell phones, calculating the dimensions of trees for insurancepurposes, and breaking into tears over the perfection of dragonflies, until finally,"The supervisor stood right in the creek and it felt really good/ And that's aboutthe time he finally had realized the importance of this day."

Musically, Sumdayreprises the elegant indie rock of The Sophtware Slump for the most part, whichworks just fine. After all, there's absolutely nothing wrong with achingly beautifulsongs, lush guitars, and exceedingly tasteful electronics. And Lytle's wistfulvoice is more endearing than ever. In the end, it's reassuring just to know thatGrandaddy haven't given up on us humans just yet.