Someone living in the snowcapped Rockies may long for more culture or company, but isn't that a complaint born of familiarity? It's similar to a fan's complaints about Matt Pond PA. Over eight albums, Matt Pond and his collaborators have fashioned plush, baroque pop suffused with hearthlike warmth. It seems curmudgeonly to note that little has changed — other than the band's lineup — in the dozen years since the first Pond release. Occasionally the guitar pushes a little harder, sometimes the rustic underpinnings are stronger, but the band has never strayed far from that mien of wistful delicacy. Then again, who needs to conquer new lands when you're good at what you do and comfortable where you are?