It’s almost unbelievable that in the early 2000s, in the wake of a huge rock revival that glorified DIY guitar rock (the White Stripes), sneering punk vocalists (the Vines, Hot Hot Heat), cooler-than-cool swagger (the Strokes, the Hives), attitude-is-everything post punk (Interpol, the Killers), and ironic hair metal (the Darkness, Jet), one unassuming man with an acoustic guitar could whisper-sing his way to notoriety.

And nevermind the 00s rock revival; it’d be unlikely in any musical landscape–Sam Beam’s gentle folk is the among least imposing music ever released. If he were to stand on a street corner with his guitar case open, hardly anyone would notice him.

And that might be just why this record works so well. It never reaches too far outside of itself, almost completely ignoring the listener in its self-contentedness. In an era of attention-hungry celebrities and the sensationalized media of the post-9/11 war on terror, an album that ignores the chaos of the world around it in favor of the secluded peace of Sam Beam’s nighttime attic songs* is a welcome escape. And it doesn’t hurt that the songs are really good.

*true, the previous album was made of songs literally recorded by Sam Beam in his attic while the rest of his family slept, but OEND doesn’t find him leaving that nocturnal hush quite yet.