A single YouTube user, perhaps in an attempt to display his undoubtedly tremendous musical knowledge, commented the following on a Neutral Milk Hotel video: “Is it time to stop pretending these guys are good?”

I’m not nearly as educated on the subject, yet find myself unable to refute his argument precisely because I’ve never “pretended” to like the group.

Though they have drawn a considerable amount of criticism for appealing merely to hipster and indie crowds, I find true brilliance at the core of Neutral Milk Hotel’s music, and their album “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” is a prime example of their talent.

Though I’d heard of them quite a few times before I actually took the time to sit down and check out their material, there was nothing about them that seemed particularly exciting or interesting.

I mean, what’s so special about an indie folk/rock band with only a couple of albums under their belt? Where’s the pizzaz?

The first time I ever heard “The King of Carrot Flowers” comes to mind. While the three-part song remains my favorite, I have to admit  I simply don’t understand it.

 I’m serious — the lyrics go way over my head. In the past, I’ve had the ability to describe how a specific tune makes me feel and the variety of scenes within my memory which it unlocks. As far as that song (and the album as a whole) goes, however, I was lost, and I loved every second of it. I wanted to decipher the enigma.

But I didn’t, for every single time I hear it, it tells me something else. I often interpret it as a declaration of young, forbidden love that faces the backlash of a religious family.

Then again, others might think of it as the true adventures of a king of carrot flowers, whose mother (according to the lyrics) stabs his father, who then drops garbage all over the floor. See what I mean? Puzzling beyond belief.

Having heard the album numerous times, I still cannot point my finger on what it triggers within me. It doesn’t bore me, as it manages to keep my attention throughout its entire length.

Lead singer Jeff Magnum’s haunting, conversational singing remains within my thoughts for hours after listening to it. It’s not even that it gets stuck in my head and I end up singing it on my way to school akin to the latest catchy pop ballad — I just cannot stop attempting to figure it out.