GRANDADDY hits the ``l e half-lived'' mark with its fourth album, Sumday.
While fans of 2000's Sophtware Slump may find the calmer, more introverted perspective a little perplexing, new listeners will bask in this Cal ornian five-piece's navel gazing.
Sumday is reminiscent of a guitar- playing Ben Folds, striking in its vivid portraiture of everyday l e.
Gone is the band's obsession with machines and technophobia.
In its place, Grandaddy has explored the spectrum of human emotion and created something much more lasting.
Sumday is the musical version of a mid- l e crisis, albeit a reflective and accepting one that searches for the meaning of l e rather than a cure to gravity.
Jason Lytle's soothing vocals weave metaphors over the old topics of fear and loss of identity.
But it's Saddest Vacant Lot in All the World that really displays Lytle's stark observation, with a woman ``in the kitchen cryin' by the oven'' and a man ``so drunk he's passed out in a Datsun''.
Grandaddy's music is sweet, with fuzzy guitars and the kind of laid-back feel standard to the organic atmosphere of recording in a home studio.
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