Neutral Milk Hotel is a now-defunct psychedelic folk band composed of Jeff Mangum, Julian Koster, Jeremy Barnes, and Scott Spillane. I've been immersing myself in their In the Aeroplane over the Sea CD, and it's too good not to share. Here's a mnemonic acronym to help you remember much they rock.

M—Melodies. NMH has simple, engaging melodies that are infused with a sense of nostalgia. They are melancholy, meandering and, at times, masterful. The song "10" evokes the dreamy, lilting groove of "Flying" from The Magical Mystery Tour. Then there's "Oh, Comely," which is essentially a seven-minute acoustic dirge. In anyone else's hands this would be a disaster, but the band's varied chords and structures keep you anticipating what will come next. Like great books, you find it difficult to imagine a time when these melodies didn't exist.

I—Instrumentation. NMH is essentially an acoustic outfit, but unlike many such groups, NMH complements their folky sound with a variety of less-typical instruments, including the flugelhorn, accordion, banjo, and euphonium. The song "Ghost" uses a singing saw to great effect, conjuring up that elusive, undulating Scooby Doo sound. And "Holland 1945," probably their catchiest song, features an accompaniment that exists in a weird crawl space somewhere between polka and industrial mariachi.

L—Lyrics. NMH's lyrics make each of their songs a little surrealist gem. It's like if you suddenly found yourself in Wonderland—with Tori Amos as your tour guide. The words hang around you like strange, glittering insects, their bodies forming impossible landscapes in the air. It's beautiful, even if you're never quite sure what any of it means.

"The only girl I've ever loved
Was born with roses in her eyes,
But then they buried her alive
One evening 1945
With just a sister at her side
And just a week before the guns
All came and rained on everyone.
Now she's a little boy in Spain
Playing pianos filled with flames,
On empty rings around the sun
All sing to say my dream has come."

What does it mean? That his soulmate was born and died too early, then was reincarnated as a child prodigy? Who knows? But it's fantastic, isn't it?

K—Killer vocals. Jeff Mangum's plaintive, bleating voice is a huge part of NMH's appeal. He's low and gruff when he needs to be, and high and insistent the rest of the time. His voice is unpracticed enough that it breaks in places, and this makes every note sound raw with emotion. Mangum is like an alternative everyman, an ordinary guy who just happens to be the spokesperson for all of our hearts.

Sadly, Neutral Milk Hotel is a thing of the past. Their heyday was 1996-1998—ancient history in the music world—and the members have all gone on to do other projects. But they're not dead if we still remember them, right? So help keep the dream alive—next time you're loitering around in your favorite independently owned music shop, be sure to ask for MILK. It does a body . . . well . . . you know.