It would appear, as of this writing, that the band Grandaddy is done. An announcement on the band’s Web site indicates they’re no more, finito, finished, shuffled off this mortal coil... you get the point. If this is the case, Just Like the Fambly Cat is a heck of a sign off.

From the bizarre but seemingly appropriate introductory track, “What Happened?”, and atmospheric anthem “Skateboarding Saves Me Twice” to the spacy-but-rockin’ “Elevate Myself” and the melancholic finale, appropriately call “Shangri-La (Outro),” it excels at what Grandaddy’s always done: keep the listener interested and explore the sonic landscape.

One might even find a hint of foreshadowing of the band’s end, if looking closely enough (or reading into certain things). “Summer... It’s Gone” laments over shimmering synths and acoustic guitars, “I don’t know where everyone went or where I’ll go” and “no one is showing up here, and in dreams I hear voices say ‘look this way,’ but I can’t see nothin’, so I turn away to head down roads, dead ends and holes.” Closing the album is the highly prophetic “Shangri-La (Outro),” which ends with a mournful lyrical repeat of “I’ll never return… to Shangri-La,” echoed by a dramatic operatic chorus.

The only real low point of the record is “The Animal World,” a droning, monotonous track that drags on uninterestingly for five minutes and goes nowhere, thematically or sonically.

There’s no shortage of experimentalist adventures or musical travels, as befits Grandaddy. “50%” is an off-kilter, loud, amped up punkish tune promising “fifty percent less words in 2006” and delivering a song fifty percent shorter than 95% of the other songs on the record (a thrifty 1:02) for 97% more interest than much of the music released in the last year. On the heels of that buzz saw rocker comes the mellow California-strummer “Guide Down Denied,” returning to the sound for which Grandaddy’s so famous; such is this entire album, a work of varying styles, unexpected transitions and stop-starts neatly packaged in hour-long set of shimmering tunes.

In one sense, it’s a damn shame if this is Grandaddy’s last record; in another sense, it’s a wholly appropriate and totally fitting last hurrah to listeners everywhere.

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