Though it sounds unusual, there is something deliberately cinematic about the way Richard Edwards approaches his work. Yet for this former film-theory-major-turned-songwriter, it is exactly this fascination with film (Wes Anderson’s work in particular) and its use of observational storytelling that has helped this musical brainchild establish his own brand of focused chamber pop fronting the eight-piece indie rock ensemble Margot & and the Nuclear So and So’s. With a strange, pageanted experimentation, the songs off the group’s excellent 2005 debut, The Dust of Retreat (reissued in 2006 after signing with Artemis Records) engages its audience with a number of off-kilter vignettes. Like a bohemian mini-orchestra, this unique collective manages to capture the introspective quirks of a visual medium, as if they were providing an unofficial soundtrack to a movie that will never be made.

A great example of the So and So’s inviting oddness comes with one of Retreat’s most enjoyable tracks, “Vampires in Blue Dresses.” With a restrained alt-country touch cavorting with the amateur sound effects of a makeshift haunted house on Halloween, Edwards wryly uses the looseness and immaturity of the music to juxtapose the seriousness of his storytelling. Speaking from the perspective of someone unwilling to give up on a love that the other half see as lost, he sings as if in a challenge, “Life is full of your regrets / And I should be one / Try telling me off / Try slamming the door and tell me I’m not worth your time / Or the breath I’m breathing.” With organ interludes and a trumpet calling coda eventually bringing the song to a close, by the time the band makes its exit with an abrupt drum corps salute, you can’t help but get the feeling like you were tricked into something enjoyable.

Immediately following is “Quiet as a Mouse.” Initially coming across as some brooding Radiohead concoction—darkened by cello moans, spacey synths, and prolonged bass thumps—the song suddenly changes gears, setting off into its chorus like some garage rock anthem with heavily distorted power chords. Once again embracing this musical idiosyncrasy it is here Edwards provides one of his most piercing lyrical truths by assuming the role of a father: “Tourists robbed me of my child, they smoked him out / He was draft-dodging some war ’til they found him out / He came home late in the night to his mom and me / And he said, ‘Times, they gotta change, but so do we.’” A blatant call against the trappings of inaction, “Quiet as a Mouse” demonstrates itself to be anything but.

The latter half of Retreat turns contemplative and one of its standout ballads is “Talking in Code.” An ode to separation entwined in a unique Americana waltz, the song sways like an old porch swing. As acoustic picking and steel twangs mix with the pace-setting march of a drum snare, Edward’s lonely vocal lamentations reach for someone who is no longer there (“I’m sleeping alone,” he sings at one point, “in this house I don’t own / Cause if you’re touring your mind, you’ll get lost every time”). It’s a sadness that’s conveyed for sure, but you can also get the sense that there’s some underlying fulfillment to be had out of such bittersweet romanticism.

With The Dust of Retreat Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s achieve something that is indeed cinematic in its sensibility. But so much like the films Edwards emulates (think The Royal Tenenbaums), the album does not spell itself out for its audience to understand in one take. It gives you just enough, convincing you that you’ve somehow missed something important, that there is something to ultimately “get.” But there isn’t. It was there long before you even started listening.

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