Plans

Plans is both a destination and a transitional journey for the group, one that sees the fulfillment of years of toiling away to develop their ideas and sound.

As albums, Transatlanticism and Give Up seemed greater than their parts, perfectly paced song cycles about love wracked by distance and time's march. Plans addresses similar themes, but without the same narrative glue or shape.

He hits paydirt again and again, especially with I Will Follow You Into the Dark and What Sarah Said, both containing a volley of observations on death which suggest that Gibbard's eye still remains ultra-keen.

Plans is a careful but not calculated album, accessible but hardly immediate, and likely to frustrate those who want it to fuel either side of an ideological debate on what it means to be indie.

There is nothing like Transatlaticism's "Sound of Settling" here to offset the never-ending stream of ballads and down-tempo songs.

This is an amazing little pop record of amazing little pop songs.

Texture is certainly key to the Death Cab sound. Though many of these songs at first appear slight in sound, there is generally enough going on to make them far more charming and endearing than many of the bland introspective artists we have peddling this sort of stuff on our side of the Atlantic.

This is a solid album that lacks some of the perfection that Death Cab fans have come to expect. Although full of some really great songs, both introspective and poppy, it presents a band not sure of which direction to follow.

After four Barsuk albums of often stately, melodic indie pop, Death Cab for Cutie become the first of the "O.C."-boosted indie bands to make the leap to the majors.

Newcomers looking for a solid indie-pop record would be better served picking up Death Cab’s last album.

On Plans, Death Cab’s fifth album (and first for a major label), they try hard not to make Transatlanticism all over again. Instead, they reach for an expansive, Abbey Road pop style, with mixed results.

Gibbard's angelic vocals sag with the weariness of a man who's gazed at his navel all his life only to realise there's nothing but fluff and darkness.

This fifth album doesn't differ radically from the previous four ... Newcomers, however, should start with 2003's more cohesive Transatlanticism.

I did get tired of hearing you sing the same vocal melody on every track, and it sucks that there's nothing nearly as anthemic as the stuff on Transatlanticism, but it's still very pretty, totally inoffensive and literary enough to impress the smart chicks who aren't too concerned with critical thought.