Vancouver's Beans remind me somewhat of Godspeed You Black Emperor. They are filmic and epic but also delicate and poignant. For me, Tired Snow represents a particularly high point in indie post-rock. Virtually every song here pierces me to the core, yet in a non-violent, consensual kind of way. The title track combines loud/soft dynamic shifts with muted, barely comprehensible vocals that are more conversational than sung. "Miko" is a like a looser version of something from Eno's Music for Airports; it's striking and lovely in its austerity. "Dark Cave at Creek" sounds like a post-modern rendition of a Morricone movie soundtrack crossed with a plaintive French folk song. It makes me cry every time I listen to it. "All-Encompassing Dust" is an instrumental track of vivid imagery -- the type of song that invokes yearning by setting up the illusion of syntax without assigning any meaning. We are left to decide for ourselves what the song is about. "Bob" combines ambient sounds of people singing with a gentle, melodic guitar accompaniment -- but by its end, has somehow been transformed into an almost inaudible racetrack commentary. Sound odd? It is...yet somehow it all works together. The final track, "Alpaca Llama", is a "fusion of two South American mammals", according to the charmingly Canadian voice in the intro. It is much like the rest of the disc: gentle, delicate and moving. I'm very happy to have discovered Beans. Music like theirs makes me hopeful in the aftermath of things like Dee Snider's new CD. (Noah reviewed former Twisted Sister Dee Snider's new solo album a few weeks ago and hasn't gotten over it yet -- Ed.)