A seamless stream of fourteen tracks easily topping an hour long by a defunct band that has been largely-forgotten at this point is, simply, sad. Sever Your Roots is not just a great album—there are many of these, and plenty that are at least as memorable. But this collection is most certainly a magnum opus for The Felix Culpa (it was their last proper* release).

This release will turn 10 later this year, but that’s mostly just a fun fact more than anything else. The more direct reason for covering it is simply that it’s the blueprint for what a masterclass album should look like (keep in mind this is a specific genre we’re looking at, and it happens to be one already pushing the boundaries of songwriting).

In terms of structure, this is an album of both consistent motifs and knee-jerk frenetic change. On a macro level, the album is largely seamless—tracks weave in and out unconsciously, and given the nature of individual songs it becomes a challenge to tell when a track has ended. Indeed, pockets of tracks feel like they could be 12-minute songs instead of individual pieces.

But the seamless nature only works because they songs are similar enough. Some transitions are clean, and some are a bit noisy. But at the end of the day, these songs feel like they belong on the same record. There’s a style consistently, or at least the first few tracks set a precedent for a wild ride of time signature changes and regular mid-song shifts. This is neither a collection of singles nor simply a thematic album. Each track stands on its own but serves a role in the greater collection. This is arguably where many bands miss the mark—there’s a fine line between chaos and the mundane, resulting in albums boringly-uniform or diverse but lacking cohesion. This album has both.

Stylistically, Sever Your Roots is some offshoot of post-hardcore. But despite this core, there’s a lot of indie and chamber influence here as well. Strings and piano are ornamental, but they’re powerful. It’s hard to not feel The Felix Culpa paved the way for bands like Caracara. This is a brand of literary punk, full of careful dynamics. Whether it’s lofi segue tracks, horn segments, or looped backing gang vocals, this is a dense album. Every instrument has its place (and a special shout out to the bass tone).

This isn’t a rock opera, and it wasn’t even really marketed as a concept album. But it most certainly is a composition of grandiose proportions. Lyrics aside, it feels like it could be some sort of soundtrack or theatre performance. Again, we’re talking about a dynamic, ceaseless work with strings, horns, and piano all mixed in. It’s hard to imagine what Mozart would have done if he wrote on guitar and bass, so I can’t attempt a comparison there, but I’ll simply say that the overall arrangement of this album seems vestigial from earlier composers.

Lyrically, this album is cryptically beautiful. There are plenty of odd and sometimes weird sentiments (“Sneaking ’round our parents’ attic, searching for the keys”) but the essence of the words is perhaps more powerful than an intended meaning. Indeed, I’ve listened to this album and hardly have a clue what it’s about, apart from what seems to be some family turmoil, the veneration of artists, and the endurance of love. Rest assured, none of this is spelled out as plainly as stated, and these are just my best guesses. There’s nothing common about these lyrics—and much like the music itself, motifs are sprinkled throughout the record.

And really, it’s that simple: this is a sprawling record that is both consistent and consistently good. Do I like some songs more than others? Of course. But there really isn’t anything I would critique about this record. Unlike Sufjan Stevens and his latest sleepy endeavor, Sever Your Roots is high-octane rock with plenty of twists and turns. It never feels dull. It’s like visiting an amusement park as a child—each new segment is a ride you can’t wait to get on. And man, is this album a vacation of a lifetime. This is the sort of album that should be the template of what a record should look like—maybe not stylistically, but just about every other respect should pertain.

This is an album with a certain timeless rarity—one of both ambition and execution, structure and narrative, composition and energy. And it feels like the band pulled it off without a hitch and walked into the sunset.* I guess this isn’t a bad spot to end.

*The band did briefly reunite to contribute two songs to a split release.