Trying to pigeonhole the Decemberists, Portland’s traveling troupe of gypsies, is becoming a tedious task these days. While the group’s catalog and fan base grow exponentially, so does its varied sound. Once coined “literary pop,” the band’s latest is sure to invoke considerable amounts of head scratching. From the folk-tinged “Eli, The Barrow Boy” to the raucous “The Sporting Life,” this album has something to offer everyone. Vocalist Colin Meloy and his crop of performers, too numerous to mention, have struck upon a chord that aims at the psyche while invigorating the body and inciting leg spasms. If artists such as World Party, Robyn Hitchcock or even the Mountain Goats mean something to you, you’d best find this album soon. The Decemberists have done good—real good—again.