True to form, the spaced-out indie rockers' final full-length is equal parts bang and whimper, with Jason Lytle's reedy whine wringing the last bit of comic pathos from his slacker despair. The press-prickly quintet kept on keeping on longer than they had any right to, given that their guitarist was run down by an 18-wheeler just three years ago. Lytle, at least, will surely find solo space-rock avenues to pursue.