Hello friends. We Dicks are back with another round of Dick Talk for you. This time, the album we are putting under the microscope (or would stethoscope make for a better metaphor?) is CocoRosie's latest, Grey Oceans. The new release, which dropped May 11th on Sub Pop, blows my mind, simply put. I can't keep up with the stylistic changes from track to track, yet I don't find myself put off by the diversity, either.

One could plausibly describe the album as Jad Fair meets Pink doing a record equally inspired by Sneaker Pimps and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Or Scott Joplin and The Dresden Dolls. Or Timothy Leary, Nina Simone, and Karl Blau. Or nothing at all. It is one of those records. Which makes it, in my hardly humble opinion, both immediately engaging and a total goddamn grower.

Now, I'll admit, I'm not an impartial listener. I have a vested interest in this being good, since I'm promoting their upcoming show at the Beachland in June. That probably totally explains my interest in getting the sound out to other's ears. However, I am 100% sincere when I tell you that my thoughts on the record are not colored by any bias. Besides, I don't make a penny on these promotional adventures, so it certainly isn't a profit interest kind of thing.

But I digress. Here are my thoughts on the record – I'm looking to you, Brian and Kevin, for your own.

There are points at which this album verges on electronica, which in traditionally disdain. At the worst of these parts, most notably deep into "Fairy Paradise," I might be tempted to give up on the album, if it wasn't for the fact that it came after nine mostly pretty brilliant songs and preceded the album closer, "Here I Come," which is just a delicious tea cake of a truth, with its pompy southern spiritual groove and lugubrious spoken word overdubs; this is the soundtrack to the performance art piece you want to take that chick who is way to cool for you to on a date. The poem that fills most of the track is pretty killer, too. Kevin – I think you'll dig the oratorical syncopation, especially on phrases like "A rape on the meadow/ a fornicating fellow" or "Up from below her/ skirt and sunlit blouses/ kangaroo mommy/ rapunzel and a tomboy" but definitely "A banquet/ a hollycaust/ a pussy wussy willow/ marshmallow, a mantra/ a temper tantric tantrum."

My two favorite songs on the album so far are the first single ("Lemonade") and the sophomore track ("Smokey Taboo"). The former is too wonderful – check out the video for the visual counter-punch and you'll most definitely agree, methinks. The latter, though, while perhaps not as perfect, has a lot to recommend it. It is on this one when my earlier Sneaker Pimps reference comes into play (though maybe that's even more true for the first song on the album, "Trinity's Crying"). There's this simple rhythm and a childlike scat-rap with a delay-fuzz on the vox that just works.  It ends with intensity and mournfulness, but is followed by "Hopscotch's" ditty-like one moment, percussive, wavy-gravy-esque the next interlude.

The dynamics in just these few mentioned tracks present multiple mind-fucks. That, of course, is a good thing.

With that, as I subject you two to something you may completely love or totally fucking hate (but likely nothing in between), I'll end with a nicely worded statement from a recent prefix review of this record: So love or hate CocoRosie, you've got to admit that they go for it.