Holiday Shores has redirected its solar vessel moonward, its controls set for the mystery and atmosphere of a lunar desert. The roving caravan pulls away from the salt-rusted ruins. And with a heap of guts, the band leaves in its bright chemtrails the musical hallmarks with which their 2009 debut, Columbus'd The Whim, was most closely associated (highlife guitar aerobics; new surf music). New Masses for Squaw Peak gifts unto us bold, surprising new textures and denser, cheekier ideas and themes. It's packed tight with style: gauze-flange experimentation; jazz-chord death-pop; shifty proto-prog; historical and personal mythologies weaved through its passages. Yet, claustrophobic it is not. New Masses... is as wide-open of a landscape as its title may suggest and as marvelous as the decrepit Philadelphia textile factory in which it was recorded. Heady stuff, to be sure, but never cumbersome. It's approachable — if not incredibly inviting — avant-garde pop.