Usually when I let a CD sit on the "pile" for as long as I've done with Hopeful Monster, it's because I'm dreading the prospect of actually listening to it carefully enough to make a fair critical assessment. In short, the longer it takes me to get to reviewing a CD, the worse it (probably) is. Usually. Hopeful Monster, however, presents a whole different problem, in that it's so good and genre-defying that I've had the damndest time trying to figure out how to accurately describe it. However, I've sat on it for long enough -- it's time that I let the rest of the world (er...well, the fraction that reads Splendid, anyway) in on the brilliance of Jason Ball and his cohorts, collectively known as Hopeful Monster.

The songs on this record could conceivably have come out pretty much at any time during the last three decades. There's nothing trendy about this music -- it subscribes to no genre specifications, and could make sense in practically any context. These songs are copyrighted 2002, but seriously, you could put this on for your buddy and tell him that it's a lost pop/psych/soul platter dating back to 1972, and he wouldn't blink an eye. This is not to say that these songs sound dated or overly retro -- it's just that, like the best folk or blues music, they exist outside of the framework of styles or trends.

So, now that I've told you what Hopeful Monster isn't, let's have a go at describing what they are. Swooning, woozy pop/rock, with nods to Neil Young, Stevie Wonder, The Beatles, The Beach Boys and ELO. Spectacularly executed, spotlessly arranged. Lush instrumental beds that you could spend all day floating on. Lyrics that sometimes float off into the ether, but even while doing this, ground themselves to real emotions: love, loss, regret.

The record kicks off with "River Reflexive", a swirling, jaunty wall of soulful sound in which Ball sings "Someday when the stars are all in line / I'll make gospel of the clichés." Well, the stars must be in line, because Ball does miraculous things with strings, horns and Beach Boys-esque harmonies that, in less talented hands, could easily lapse into rote. However, Ball is a masterful arranger, and everything -- from the trombones that carry song number two, "Daily Electric", to the touch-tone phone sound that's an integral part of the melody of "Instructions for Winter Lovers" -- works wonderfully.

Although the soulful, upbeat numbers like "River Reflexive" and "Stars are Photomagnets" are marvelously done, Ball shows us where his true strengths lie with slower, more morose, slightly countrified songs like "Universal Donor" and "Goldmine". Ball's voice virtually drips with regret and resignation when he sings "Now I'm always pouring water, but I missed the cup / Now I spend all my time mopping up," in "Universal Donor". The craftily-deployed lap steel and vibraphone only add to the translucent melancholy of Ball's aching voice. On "Goldmine", he engages in a lovely self-deprecating metaphor: after admitting "I want you so bad I damn myself to hell," he croons, "Baby, you're a goldmine / You make me so happy sometimes / But you know I'll rob you of your wealth." In a word or two, heartbreakingly beautiful.

Hopeful Monster is quite an astounding debut. While it acknowledges many touchstones of the past, it's not afraid to leap headfirst into new, exciting sounds. And anyway, it's not the individual parts that make this record so mesmerizing, it's the way Ball and his cohorts weave them together so seamlessly. This is a perfectly crafted slice of pop/soul/country/psych/whatever bliss. Don't worry your head, like I did, in an effort to put your finger on an accurate description of this stuff -- just procure yourself a copy of Hopeful Monster, sit back, and drink from the well.