Among the greater musical things I’ve done in recent months was see Hum as they toured across America for the first time in basically forever. They were an unexpected bucket list band, one that felt inaccessible due to their relative obscurity. It seemed impossible for them to ever get back together for more than occasional one-off shows, and being from the Chambana area of Illinois, those one-offs probably weren’t going to be nearby. Not that I haven’t been trying to keep aware ever since they showed up at Furnace Fest years ago… it was the sort of show that would have been worth a trip. You’d Prefer an Astronaut wormed its way deep into my mind without my realizing it. I mean, I’d always liked Hum, but I never would have thought I was the world’s biggest fan.

Which is good, because I’ve since met the world’s biggest fan. He’s the one that reminded me I need to finally listen to some Centaur, the band which Hum’s frontman, Matt Talbott, started after Hum disbanded. He’s also recommended me just about everything the guys have been involved in since Downward is Heavenward, though, so I’ve got to work in moderation here. Centaur was the obvious choice because I knew I’d wanted to know more. I’d heard a little of In Streams back when it first came out, but I never gave it the time it deserved. Now was the time to finally hear it cover to cover.

In Streams starts off as a marked departure. “Life Begins” feels like it should be born of the sort of New-Age Alt-Rock of the late 90s… the bands where you couldn’t quite tell if their music was supposed to be religious or not. The guitar is the only real hallmark of the band’s roots, coming in at each chorus with the sort of progression Hum made use of regularly. The vocals miss the measured, disinterested delivery Matt Talbott was known for, pushing a fuller voice at a higher register. It took a bit for me to even hear Matt in those vocals at all. “Wait For The Sun” has even less of Talbott’s trademark sound… it could be any band of the era, a radio ready nothing song which is not so much bad as nondescript. It’s a one-two punch that makes the fan bite his lip anxiously. It’s the fear of listening to Billy Corgan’s Thefutureembrace. It’s the terror of a musician you love threatening to have legitimately tossed his best qualities into the dustbin.

Whatever Matt’s intentions may be in these early tracks, however, they cannot stop the collection at large from sounding like a new Hum album. By track three, “The Same Place,” all the classic elements are back in, well, the same place, not only in the vocals but also in the almost tentative quiet moments making way to crunchy guitars. That’s not to say that there aren’t new elements here, like the keys and orchestration rising up and snaking through “Strangers On 5″… even here it is clear this is not quite the same band. At its soul, though, Centaur is the sort of project that proves the soul of an artist. That is to say, even freed from his bandmates in Hum, or the conceptual ground walked by his former band, Talbott still trends toward those same tricks that made Hum so great. It’s the heart of who he is musically, perhaps, and it makes it obvious he was the brain behind his former band. Even when the directions tentatively stepped toward in those first tracks crop up again in “Placencia” and “Fields,” the Hum flavor is always in the foreground instead of a faint aftertaste… by midway through the album, then, it seems the two worlds have found a way to peacefully coexist. On the other hand, though, maybe coexisting is overrated, as “Thimbles” is the greatest Hum song Hum never recorded, and a very good bet for best of the bunch here.

It is the sprawling title track, however, which seems to capture the album best. Not only would it fit in with the rest of the Hum catalog, it also subtly defies it. The track is incredibly leisurely. It has nowhere important to get to quickly. The tempo is such that 9 minutes pass without feeling quite like 9 minutes. While Hum had no fear of the long track, this stretches out quite a bit, lounging much more peacefully than anything the former band would do. It has breathing room, which may well be the role Centaur was supposed to serve. That it ends with a spacey orchestral outro reminds us this isn’t the same, and it shouldn’t be. It sounds like what the fans would have missed while still remaining its own song. That’s enough to wish there was a second album under Centaur’s belts, to see what the sophomore effort would do in terms of continuing or departing from this one. If nothing else, there could have been a chance of shaking off the inevitable comparisons to the band which came before. When your predecessor rocked as much as Hum did, however, maybe it’s not so bad to have those comparisons.

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