Duncan Sheik
Daylight
Atlantic

When "Barely Breathing" ("I know what you're doing/ I see it all too clear/ I only taste the saline/ when I kiss away your tears"), an amazing concoction of pop and cutting lyrics, first hit Top 40 radio, two thoughts came to mind: One was "damn, what a cool song." The other was, "There's a one-hit wonder." We'd never hear from this Duncan Sheik guy again. Sure, he'd release albums, but they'd be ignored or forgotten. There was no way he'd ever be able to live up to that perfect first single.

Daylight, the fourth album from Sheik, puts all that talk to rest. It's stronger than any of his three previous albums because it bridges whatever gap may have been between his outrageously memorable pop hooks and his more melancholy, string-filled tracks, something he only succeeded at in fits and starts before. It clicks from start to finish.

Sheik has always been compared to Nick Drake, one of his heroes, and there's plenty of Drake's folk moodiness on Daylight. But unlike previous albums, it doesn't drag things down. It's not all, "Let's be quiet and introspective and keep these strings going;" the songs actually have a destination. And, with many loops and turns, Sheik gets to that destination instead of just making you feel as if the rest of the trip still lies ahead.

"On A High" is another "perfect" single. Bouncy pop, but with an edge that's hard to define. This is an album full of songs that easily could have gone seriously awry. Sheik laces yet another song ("Memento") with strings, and it works beautifully. On the album's hidden 12th track, he accomplishes the rare feat of putting together a light techno-folk mix without making the song sound like throwaway radio pap. On "Shine Inside," he succeeds at finding the middle ground between lite Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin's softer moments, ending it with strings from a Sinatra song. Somehow it all comes together. The mood, the hooks, the lyrics, the dreaminess mixed with the 4/4 beat, making every single song instantly memorable. Other singer/songerwriters should take note.

Much of the credit has to go to producer Patrick Leonard, who has really seized on Sheik's ability to form textured, yet hook-laden, songs. There are a lot of styles at work, but Daylight's pretty damn seamless. Just when it seems like it's going to turn bombastic or become overproduced and yawn-inducing, it surprises. Pop hooks, guitar based anthems, lush strings, folk noodling, techno, whispered vocals and odd sound effects pair with lyrics that delve into the mind of a twenty/thirtysomething and the relationships he's had. ("Magazines" is about a model that the narrator used to date, and it's hard to avoid thinking there's more than a little autobiography in there.) It's an interesting thing: Daylight is one of those albums that, as you listen to it, you really don't think of the instruments as separate entities. The varying elements complement one another and add personality rather than overwhelm.

This is a gorgeous collection, almost like a terrific book of short stories you want to curl up with. Catchy without sacrificing intelligence, it's pop, but it doesn't make you want to hide it under your Ryan Adams or White Stripes CDs when company is coming over. Hummable without making you feel guilty for listening to it on repeat, it's a more complete package than his fine debut album and his underrated second album, Humming, which had four killer songs but too many so-so tunes. And it's much more accessible than Phantom Moon, his experimental-by-comparison third album. If everyone doesn't latch on to this album, the same way they seem to have latched onto John Mayer's catchy debut, then the music-buying public is missing out on something special.

There are those that get off on the latest thing, or tomorrow's oh-so-hip band, or someone whose CD they bought because they like that one song or because some of their friends do but they'll sell the disc in a couple of years because they can't believe they actually bought it. The rest of us, we'll be over here in our living rooms, with the lights down a little, listening to stuff like Daylight.

— Bob Sassone (bobsassone@yahoo.com)