It's rare to see a piano put to good use in a contemporary band, but Blood Meridian does it right. Sometimes the piano harmonizes with the guitar, sometimes it's laid on thick like oil paint, and sometimes it ebbs and surges like the tide -- but whatever it's doing is precisely what the song, at that moment, calls for. However, the piano isn't really the spectacular thing about Blood Meridian -- it only exemplifies it. You see, Blood Meridian know what they're doing. The deliberation, the careful attention to detail apparent in every moment of We Almost Made it Home, demands your attention, whether the mood itself is subdued or painfully tense. If you are remotely interested in alt-country, this is a band you need to hear.

The album opens with "I Wonder what that Windshield Tastes Like?", decidedly reminiscent of the Handsome Family's best work. It has the same sort of relentlessly bleak subject matter for which those morbid indie-country gods are famous, but more importantly, the song shows that Blood Meridian have the same talent for relentless, shameless, fearless use of classic country tropes. The song is drenched in predictable harmonica and common slide guitar, and the lyrical imagery itself is hardly unforeseeable, but that doesn't matter; this band is really, really good at what they do.

The title track is another excellent piece of work, making use of a frantic, nearly hidden banjo to subtly tilt the piece's mood from catharsis to panic in a matter of seconds. "Oh, Oh, Oh" is probably the stand out track, at least as far as hookiness goes; with its groovy rhythm, sing-along lyrics and addictive piano garnishes, it'll take hold of you and then, strangely enough, politely request that you dance.

Unfortunately, "The Sun Always Rises (For You)", as good as it is, finally makes it impossible to ignore Blood Meridian's one remotely significant shortcoming. Namely, Matt Camirand's voice has very real limitations, and he only sells the song with the help of his band's (also very limited) backing vocals. You realize, at this point, that he's done a brilliant job of making his limitations work for him. "The Children of God" really drives the point home; it's creepy in a way that only alt-country really can be, evoking empty plains and existential angst, and Camirand pulls it off so well that you might not notice he's barely singing. In other words, he sells it. The song successfully reaches its totally deranged climax, and all is well.

"Every Bar"'s main guitar is pure country twang, but the crunchy electric, male/female vocal layering, flat twee synth and slightly out of tune trumpet are very Sufjan Stevens. The result is a subtle, evocative blend that Blood Meridian should definitely give more thought to in the future, in the event that they decide to move beyond alt-country's increasingly crowded confines.

Until then, give these guys a hand. They've earned it.