The eight-song Casually Smashed to Pieces meanders down tree-canopied pathways: mellow and carefree. Guitars spangle and sigh with yearning and regret; vibes chime and banjos jangle in beautiful sympathy, while hazy brass fanfares billow in the distance. In an age pummeled by bad news, an "all is right with the world" vibe peeks through the band's shimmering ease; it's a methodical grace that seems positively pre-internet in its refusal to hustle and bustle. While the pace sometimes gets too dozy, Pieces mostly achieves a languorousness that totally soothes the soul.