Misunderstood

But Strange proves the band's might beyond such comparisons. The interplay between Albrecht's keys and pedal-steel player Ward Williams' subtle flourishes is essential on songs such as "Goodnight"; the players' efforts turn a potential acoustic-guitar yawn into a palpable document of Johnson's anxiety. Opener "Buttercup" builds from clean vibrato guitar and soft, regretful reflection to pounding drums and a soaring guitar solo that is both angry and achingly melodic. And the production on "Lazybones" dips the trapkit in deep reverb, making Carmichael's drum rolls sound like something off The Soft Bulletin.

Fortunately, there's no Tweedy/Jay Bennett power struggle here, either. The group is loaded with songwriters (each has fronted a band or solo project, including Albrecht's defunct Sparrows and Holt's Olospo), yet Johnson has borne the writing brunt throughout Sorta's life. But the guys say it has never been a sticking point, happy to bring Johnson's songs to life and contribute with arrangements. Even Balis, whose other songwriting outlet is parody songs for sports talk show The Hardline on 1310 The Ticket, doesn't mind.

"Most of the stuff I write I end up hating on my own and would never consider presenting it to the band," he says. "'Closer' was the first song I had written in years that I thought was decent and would fit with Sorta...Maybe one day I'll put out a cassette of garbage I've written over the years. Probably not."

Though the delay has dampened their enthusiasm about the new album, they still look forward to playing songs from it that they have yet to perform live. Holt describes the band's approach to some of the new songs as very experimental, like "multilayered chamber pop." Johnson aims to have the new album out next summer to coincide with a European tour.

The tour talk sparks a discussion about Iceland. Williams seems convinced the band absolutely must record there, though his only connection to the island is an appreciation for Sigur Ros and a memory of an Icelandic girl he met several years ago in Spain. He seems to have the others half-convinced--especially Albrecht, who makes sure to point out he's been with an Icelandic hottie as well.

"It's a very spiritual place," Williams says after describing a land of volcanoes, geysers and mountains, a beautiful land in perpetual motion, a place he's only seen on TV and read about.

"Oh yeah, it's very spiritual," Johnson echoes, adding: "When we say 'spiritual,' we actually mean 'sexual.'"

But the facetious tones melt away the more they talk about it. For all their contented talk of being grounded and at peace with the band's status, their eyes brighten and they straighten up in their chairs at the prospect of the unknown. Then they catch themselves dreaming out loud and laugh the whole thing off.

But even if things turn for the worst--more Sad than Strange--the guys won't be feeling sorry for themselves. The sextet pledges to ride it out with the prolific Johnson, who sees no reason to pin his hopes on one album after crafting three that he's openly proud of.

"If we make 10 more albums in 10 years, we'll all still be of able body to make great music," he says. "How many bands have 13 great records that nobody's ever heard of?...At some point, somebody's going to say, 'Wow, what a great catalog.'"