Jeremy Barnes's contributions to Neutral Milk Hotel and Bablicon have garnered comparisons to Talking Heads, Captain Beefheart, Frank Zappa, Brian Eno and Cecil Taylor. Though bold and seemingly exaggerated, these are fairly accurate associations; like those innovative artists, Barnes has built a career upon conquering whatever musical goals he puts his mind to, then moving on before the dust settles. Hell, even the differences between Darkness at Noon and his self-titled 2003 debut show that he can't sit still for long -- a lot can happen during two years in Barnes's world.

For this outing, Barnes enlists previous collaborators such as Neutral Milk homies Jeff Spillane, Jeff Mangum, Hawk tourmate/Foma member Heather Trost and some of those other crazy Elephant 6 folks. Just as albums like Bitches Brew are comprised of non-traditional versions of seemingly incompatible elements, Barnes and company follow the any-genre-goes aesthetic. Do not confuse this description with messy or haphazard: in the same way that Miles Davis used the best of the best to style his direction, this group has the talent, chops and seasoned mastermind (Barnes) to help you believe that their concoctions are perfectly natural. Opener "Laughter in the Dark" will draw you in from the beginning: footsteps trail across a stage and an Italian missy introduces the piece. Trumpet follows, weaving a tricky adapted traditional Transylvanian folk melody, with Barnes's powerful accordion comping along beside it. The track slowly fades from the attack, incidental Gamelan percussion slurring the scene into harp textures, tuba basslines and a (in every sense of the word) haunting vocal choir backed by an orchestra of miscreant instruments. Though it sounds strange on paper, it's a truly gorgeous display of eclecticism that continues throughout the disc. "The Moon on the Water" follows with a stallion's snort (yes, literally), broken by a polyrhythmic attack of melodica, accordion and percussive punctuation that further strikes your senses. This onslaught trades off with piano and Trost's soothing violin lines and badass trumpet melodies, which front as only a proud Mariachi can, threatening to push the meters off the board. The horse returns at a trot to provide an interlude.

The disc alternates between A Hawk and a Hacksaw's distinctive cultural diplomacy and other works that are equally difficult to label. "For Slavoj" features processed recordings of what sounds like a Sunday morning in the kitchen (ice clinking, spoons dropping) and affected piano that titters through an arpeggiated process. Soon the accordion humps along with glockenspiel and the piano churns out Steve Reich minimalism to the choir's methodical chant of "I love you, I love you". "Goodbye Great Britain"'s prelude, full of microtonal string drones, tape loops and mysterious percussion, prepares you for "Our Lady of Vlatva", in which John Lennon's ghost advises you to steer clear of throwing yourself in the river -- things are going to be all right! "Portlandtown" unfolds in a nursery rhyme-style prose, repeating, "I was born in Portlandtown / I had children one, two, three / yes I did, yes I did / sent my children off to war / yes they did, yes they did / killed my children one, two, three / yes they did, yes they did." Accompanied by a simple piano sequence that sounds as if it was composed by a passionate eighth grader, plus violin and Barnes and friend on vocals, it'll give you a case of the weepies; the band's tragic, honest sentiments will cut you to the core. Sometimes beauty is overwhelming.

Here's a warning about Darkness at Noon: prepare to feel lost for a while. That is, you'll feel lost and totally submerged in a sublime experience that's timeless, exciting and free from boundaries. It would be great if Barnes rested here and explored more of this terrain, but given the band's track record, it's unlikely to happen. No matter -- wherever they go next will be just as wonderful.