Grandaddy Sumday (V2 Records) Like so many patriarchs, Grandaddy can be a little contrary. Their last effort, The Sophtware Slump, welcomed the millennium with predictions of technological doom in forests of broken household appliances. The events of the past three years should have confirmed their worst fears and brought an even darker album of forgivable smugness. But, no. While the world weighed the war in Iraq, Grandaddy were polishing odes to sales people who escape the office to discover 'with each other, the perfection of an outdoor day'. It's not that the machines have been defeated. Grandaddy have just realised that it's all right to let the robots work the factory through the night while we humans make the most of play time before death. 'I'm okay with decay,' singer Jason Lytle offers as the album's epitaph. 'I have no choice, I have no voice, I have no say, on my decay, I have no choice, so I rejoice, I'm okay.' He explains pleasure with the same rickety quiver that delivered the pathos of earlier albums. Fans hoping for another mordant soundtrack to their woes should disregard the words and allow Sumday to make them as miserable as Grandaddy's best work. You'll find the same fuzzily chugging countrified rhythms, drifting vocals and the sense that Neil Young, The Beach Boys and the woollier Radiohead have downloaded in to one file. You could even pretend that labelling Sumday happy is too simple. Look hard and you might see a band running from the US Top 10 appearance the last album created. Perhaps Sumday is about the terror of losing their lives in Modesto, California, and falling prey to the evil machine of the music industry. Oh, something for everyone.