Once again, the amorous, shape-shifting, and occasionally naughty Toronto collective take the fey out of gay with an orchestra pit full of cacophony that provides the kind of instantly gratifying retro- that has been their wine and cheese since 2003's . and his army of don't stray far from the verse/chorus/verse/chorus audio font that made such a summer road-trip necessity, but they do sound like more of a band now than a studio project. (like a coyote howl) is populated by pulse-quickening rockers like the -inspired and the anthemic ; delicacies such as and the gorgeous ; and one seriously contagious title track. This is by far their most accessible and cohesive record yet, and despite a couple of well-meaning but ultimately derivative hiccups in its second half, should bring a much larger audience into the fold. 's lyrics remain steeped in Freudian imagery, but his penchant for deviance -- there are no songs about pee this time around -- has surrendered to a broader and more poetic view of love, life, and the awful and beautiful things we do in the name of both. His initial branding of the band as the foremost purveyors of "gay church music" may be apt, but it's not as insular as it sounds, because with each new record he and his talented pit of vipers are building the kind a congregation that transcends how and with whom we fumble around in the back seat. Hallelujah! ~ James Christopher Monger