I have to imagine that when Adam Young was trying to pick the final tracklist for Ocean Eyes, Owl City's major label debut, he narrowed the opening slot down to two possible songs: Cave In or Dental Care. And in doing so, he would have to decide whether the first track on the album would represent his project sonically (Cave In) or lyrically (Dental Care). On one hand, Cave In is a fine example Owl City's ridiculously dreamy and melodic brand of electropop. On the other hand, Dental Care is about getting your teeth cleaned -- a prescient message, since Young's musical offerings are so cheerful and upbeat, listening to this album for too long will likely rot your teeth.

Owl City has three basic modes of operation (whimsical, romantic, vivacious), and the songs on Ocean Eyes cycle between all three to glorious effect. It is very apparent from the first listen that Adam Young is a musician in love with life, much like Bryce Avary of The Rocket Summer, and it comes across in practically all of his lyrics. If you're a cynic, stay far away from this album, because Young doesn't care how cheesy you may find his pastel imagery of blue skies and yellow beaches or cold nights and falling stars. His goal is to find your inner romantic and drag it out to soak in the beauty with him.

As for the music, Young has always had a great ear for melody and tasteful programming, and that hasn't changed on Ocean Eyes. Cave In kicks the album off with a great muted synthesizer hook before the song's full instrumentation bursts forth, Young's vocals pleasantly gliding over it all. The song twists and turns through a moody electronic dreamscape while never losing coherence or emotive power. Young is quick to remind listeners that Owl City isn't just limited to his keyboards, however: The Bird and the Worm bounces into play brandishing an acoustic guitar made of sunshine and gumdrops, Young's sing-song vocals backed by MIDI handclaps, jangly chimes and shimmering keys. Fun fact: The track's lyrics can be clinically prescribed to the emotionally jaded to induce vomiting.

Hello Seattle is the first major dose of lyrical abstraction on Ocean Eyes, a holdover from Owl City's self-released material that takes listeners from mountain top to ocean floor and back again. If you can forgive the repetitive structure, it's a highly memorable track. Umbrella Beach's impromptu dance party sounds more like a Swimming With Dolphins song (Young's pure electronica side project) than something befitting Owl City, but it helps to keep the tracklist nice and varied going forward. Then we finally hit The Saltwater Room, one of the best pieces of music Young has ever written: a delicious marriage of organic/digital instrumentation and male/female vocals, the song has undergone some minor cosmetic upgrades, but fans of the original shouldn't be put off by that. It's as lovely as ever.

Okay, the album gets a little weird with Dental Care. There's nothing wrong with the instrumentation, per se -- bright, bouncy piano arpeggios and warbling synths make it standard upbeat Owl City fare, but the lyrics are ridiculous even by Young's lax standards. I-see-what-you-did-there moments include "I've been to the dentist a thousand times, so I know the drill" and "Golf and alcohol don't mix, and that's why I don't drink and drive." Meteor Shower brings the mood down with subdued instrumentation backed by energetic drums, then On The Wing brings it right back up. By now, it becomes apparent that Young is deliberately shifting moods with each track to keep the album from succumbing to the repetitive nature that plagues so much modern electronica. And you know what? It works. Every song has a particular quirk and distinct nature that keeps Ocean Eyes fresh from start to finish, and that's an impressive feat.

Picking up from On The Wing, Fireflies is yet another highlight of the album. The innocuous electronica hook and light orchestral instrumentation complement one another beautifully, and Young could not have written a more pleasing vocal melody to go with it. The Tip of the Iceberg brings back Young's nature-based lyricism and danceable synthesizers in earnest, with instrumentation that repeatedly builds to crescendo from verse to verse. Vanilla Twilight is a sweet little ballad with piano keys dressed up in elegant chimes and synth bends, and Tidal Wave matches acoustic guitar chords to breakbeats and synthesizers that wash over the whole soundscape. Young then closes out the deluxe version of the album with a dance remix of Hello Seattle and the slow, sappy romanticism of If My Heart Was a House, which is as close to a power ballad as Owl City will probably ever get.

So what's the verdict on Ocean Eyes? Well, while I would say there are no categorically bad songs on it, there is a definite heirarchy to the tracks, ranging from instant classics to somewhat forgettables. Also, one of the best songs to come out of the Ocean Eyes sessions, Hot Air Balloon, is nowhere to be found on the album. That said, Young has still struck electropop gold with this release. Even the forgettables don't count as filler to me, because none of them feel like they're just going through the motions. Young has put deliberate care into each piece, carefully crafting the melody, instrumentation, and overall dynamics to be as pleasant and unique as possible. I can already tell this is an album I'll be returning to every time I feel like I need the musical equivalent of Prozac chased by Pixie Stix.