As most encyclopedias, meteorologists and Bill Nyes will tell you, there is little difference between clouds and fog. The important distinction? Clouds stay afloat in that big blue abyss, doing their thing with the occasional lash out of rain, hail or other precipitation on the poor people below. While fog... fog is friendly enough to dip its wispy toes into the world of mortals during random visits to Earth's surface.

Fog is the musical equivalent to this down-to-earth effluvium. Led by frontman Andrew Broder, Fog sends listeners floating up and away on waves of rich, haunting tunes and tones. And just when we think we've drifted out of the realm of reality, familiarity forces us back down to the dirt.

The dirt. The soil of this sphere we call Earth, from which spring trees, flowers, amps, computers and beautiful sing-song birds. Ether Teeth, the second album sprung from Fog, encompasses this first and foremost -- the sounds embedded in the background of "traditional" songs take to front stage, while the vocals whisper in and out, like a light wind.

Take the first track, for example, Plum Dumb . Headphones sit on your ears, lids close on your eyes, and mysticism drags you into a dense dreamland. You are sitting in a movie theater, located on a beach you've never been to, on a planet you've never heard of.

Just go with it.

This new planet is inhabited by turntables from the future, people from the past and a guitar from the present -- whose strings snapped just moments ago, but when strummed, still manage to evoke a feeling of euphoria.

The clapping in The Girl from The Gum Commercial comes from the hands of the Angels -- all newly single and in pursuit of Fog rockers -- and Leslie Gore, who now only cries when What a Day Day isn't playing on repeat at her party. This second song is sure to share fans with Carbon Leaf and Flogging Molly -- with subtle hints of Irish heritage hiding in the background.

Other songs reminiscent of other times and other cultures include No Boys Allowed (for some reason I picture a yellow submarine when I hear it) and I Call This Song Old Tyme Dudes , which sounds like a religious chant performed on the set of Beetlejuice. Bewitching? Yes, but that's what makes it so mysteriously addictive.

Like the fog that frequents the surface of the earth for just a short time, so must your visit to this foreign planet (which you might name Plum Dumb) lift. The who-ing owls and croaking crickets fade away (as Apologizing to Mystery comes to a close) as the sun creeps up out of the clouds, and you will wake (was it really all a dream?) to birds chirping cheerily.

Ether Teeth opens the door to that place between sleep and waking, where you can subconsciously decide if the world you're dreaming in -- or living in -- is morbid, humorous, beautiful or everything all at once.

Additional Tracks:
CheerUpCheerily
Under A Anvil Tree