Whoever said there are no second acts in America apparently never met Owen Pallett. The versatile artist who once performed under the moniker Final Fantasy has not only survived since shedding the JRPG-inspired name, he has positively thrived between touring with The Mountain Goats, lending a hand on recent releases by Gentleman Reg and Gigi, and continuing to burnish his credentials as the reigning indie rock orchestral composer and, thanks to Wayne Coyne’s love for the sound of his own voice, a twitterific advocate for social justice, pitchfork-style. Add to this the fact that his latest record (also the first to be released under his new eponymous approach) has been garnering wholly merited oohs and ahhs from the bloggerati and you have a pretty strung hunch that the decade we’ve all just entered is going to be a good one for the Toronto-based violinist.

That record, Heartland, is a doozy, a concept album in the finest way that deserves dialogical communion with Van Occupanther and last year’s Edward Sharpe album (and, hopefully, foreshadows equally excellent conceptual efforts by The Besnard Lakes and Titus Andronicus later this year). Pallett shows off both his skills as an arranger and his affection for well-executed theatrical camp on Heartland, scoring his other-worldly tale of a young, ultra-violent farmer named Lewis and a supreme deity named Owen in a manner that recalls Andrew Lloyd Webber as much as it does Arcade Fire.

Once you know the initial premise, the album proceeds in a narrative way that manages poetry without being cryptic. Early into the album, a careful listener becomes aware of Pallett’s clever awareness, as he notes in the album opener “Midnight Directives” that men can be bought and sold and that “the price of a hundred thousand unwatered souls/ is a bit of meat and a bit of coal”  and when, on “Keep the Dog Quiet” he describes a union as a “cage about a cage about a cage” and  a remove as  “a narrative mess.” Later in the record, Pallett links a “concatenation” of locusts with farmers losing their focus, and never slicks a step. At other moments, the lyrics are incredibly visual, to the point that “Red Sun No. 5″ has the listener wishing for an accompanying coffee-table photo book  or well-illustrated graphic novel, while “Mt. Alpentine” and “Flare Gun” deserve the kind of map Tolkein enthusiasts get so much joy from.

While one couldn’t say Pallett exactly dabbles in brevity, his arrangements are efficient, avoiding sonic detours and sidesteps, instead getting the most out of every second. Bursts of intensity like “Mount Alpentine” cram an incredible amount of drama into its small frame, and when Pallett does stretch out a little, it comes perfectly, as on the youthfully Sousan “Lewis Takes Action,” which contrasts starkly with the medieval Kubrickosity of the narrative and, particulary, the incipient Ronettes back-beat that introduces the song. Such contrast is rife throughout Heartland, particularly on the album’s next track, “The Great Elsewhere,” which combines a jagged and technological desolation with a sea-based religious reverie.

While at times the narrative of a different world in a different era slips – see, for example, references to Earth-bound phenomena such as Disney, ketamine, and Bulgaria – Heartland features enough great songs to forgive a little continuity glitches. Among these stand-outs are, in addition to the aforementioned “Lewis Takes Action,” are the impassioned and perfectly titled “Oh Heartland, Up Yours!” and the upbeat swirl of “Lewis Takes Off His Shirt.” Elsewhere, modern western influences make their mark – from the Warner Bros vibe of “Flare Gun” and the Phantom of the Opera meets The Chronicles of Narnia and “Cats in the Cradle” geist of “E is for Estranged” – providing a welcome aesthetic hook on which to hang your listening references.

Heartland, Owen Pallett’s third full-length, was released January 18th via Domino Records. You can purchase it here.

Owen Pallett – Lewis Takes Action