An ortolan is a French bird notorious for it’s use in gourmet cooking. Caught in nets, the bird is overstuffed until it is 4 times its size. Then, it is drowned in brandy or any other hard liquor on hand and roasted over hot coals. Eaten whole, this album has a perfect title. Sweet bird flesh folk songs, bone guitars crunching in your teeth, piercing your gums during the extended jam sessions, the salty keyboard riffs pouring out of your jaws, the bitter lyrical organ meat hinted at throughout. You also have to eat this album under a napkin or linen cloth, although this time for hipsters and not God. It teeters uncomfortably close to Wolf Parade, Arcade Fire, and CYHSY, while mostly dancing in modern blah pop. But, through solid production, having fun, and being damn talented, it doesn’t make a shit. This album is damn good. Give it a chance. They will be popular soon, so get in on the ground floor.