Music Review: My Latest Novel "Wolves"

My Latest Novel
Wolves
Bella Union

If parallel universes exist, then some sort of Sliders-type portal must have ripped open and let My Latest Novel pass on through. Straight from a version of Earth where Arcade Fire was formed not in Montreal but in Glasgow as a Belle & Sebastian side project, My Latest Novel’s debut album, Wolves, is a curious combination of epic orchestration and quiet harmonious dream songs that seems to make perfect sense, even in our world.

Instrumentally driven tracks fill most of the album with more emphasis on strings, eclectically powerful percussion and actual vocals than on comprehensible lyrics. In such songs as “When We Were Wolves” and “Ghost in the Gutter” short phrases are excessively repeated to an oddly powerful effect, usually mounting to thunderous crescendos. The vocal harmonies of the Deveney brothers and Laura McFarlane are created wonderfully throughout the album to an almost deceiving effect. Since their tempos and melodies tend to change at the drop of an eight-ton hat, moments of sleep-inducing humming have the tendency to end in blasts of intense military bass drums or a chorus of children yelling “pulling out my hair/pulling out my hair/ crushed by plastic Lego men.”

The album stands as a surreal sort of treat for fans of Arcade Fire; as though finding the Bollywood version of your favorite film, but then realizing that it just might be as good as the original, though you’d never admit it. No, not in this world.

-Published in The Rutgers Review March 27, 2007

Music Review: I'm From Barcelona "Let Me Introduce My Friends"

Artist: I’m From Barcelona
Album: Let Me Introduce My Friends

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I’ve come to the conclusion that Peter Pan didn’t actually take the Darling siblings to Neverland, the place where children never grow up. I’m now almost certain that he and Tinkerbell kidnapped them to Sweden, the land of dark winters and where overt happiness is the only way to stay sane. It is also the home to all twenty-nine members of I’m From Barcelona, whose debut album Let Me Introduce My Friends acts as a postcard jam-packed with the most sincere songs of childhood happiness I’ve ever heard.

Like Elvis Costello welcoming you to his working week on My Aim Is True or Clap Your Hands Say Yeah screaming for you to do what their name entails as you enter their twisted carnival of drunken dreams, the best albums open with a track that helps to introduce its listeners to the secret world of the artist. Though it has absolutely no resemblance to either of those aforementioned records, Let Me Introduce My Friends’ opening song, “Oversleeping,” quietly fades in as the listener wakes to Swedish chatter coming from the next room, and then to strangely pleasant alarm ringing. You overslept, as singer Emanuel Lundgren explains, but reassures that it doesn’t matter, because today is going to be the best freakin day of your entire life. Following the trail of playful xylophone notes Lundgren opens a door and literally introduces you to all of his friends. They’re all there waiting for you to go outside and run around the streets, throwing bouncy balls everywhere and scurrying to catch them. You lose some but you don’t care, cause in the world of I’m From Barcelona, there are so many awesome things to do, losing your twee little balls is the last thing on your mind.

With songs like “Collection of Stamps” (I’ve got one from one from Spain/and two from Japan/ I’ve got a couple from Israel/and Azerbaijan) and “Treehouse” (I have built a tree house/I have built a tree house/ Nobody can see us/ Cause It’s a you and me house), the horde of musicians revert to their six year old selves in search of the naïve security they once knew. The language barrier, I suppose, helps in this endeavor, making each song’s crowd-pleasing, sing along chorus sound as though the band hijacked Mr. Roger’s trolley in between our reality and the Land of Make Believe.

With their exorbitant member count, wide array of instruments and affinity for happiness, the closest comparison IFB has to any other act would be to the Polyphonic Spree. IFB, though, takes on a poppier, minimalist approach (as minimal as you can be with a synths, horns, and glockenspiels) as apposed to the mega-musical theater orchestration and creepy cult undertone of the Spree.

This is a great album, whether you’re in a bad mood, need something to kick-start your day, or to just play in the background while packing your bags for Sweden.

-Published in the Rutgers Review 2/27/2007

Music Review: Of Montreal "Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?"

Of Montreal
Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?

Kevin Barnes is falling apart inside. It’s always a real shame when those who walk around with smiles pasted on their faces can’t keep their façade up any longer and their torment seeps through their teeth. On Hissing Fauna, though, Barnes grins even harder until he can’t take it anymore, leaving behind a broken identity for that of a crazed alien glam star.

All of the elements of past albums are apparent, including crazy drum machine beats, even more hyper synthesizers, and creepily harmonious oohs and ahhs under “Beatles on speed” vocals. The most glaring difference, though, is in Barnes’ lyrics. Now bluntly personal, his words describe his meltdown into loneliness, drugs (“Come on, Chemicals!”) and then into a total identity crisis in the album-splitting opus “The Past Is A Grotesque Animal.” There is no way to ignore this 12 minute track where Barnes’ rambles straight-from-the-journal free verse over repetitious to the point of obnoxious layered beats that disappointingly end in a static fizzle. Casual listeners will barely make it past the three minute mark before tuning out entirely.

The band emerges from its dark K hole with a brand new affinity for ridiculously awesome alien funk that totally makes up for the past 720 seconds. Songs like “Labrinthian Pomp” and “Faberge Falls For Shuggie,” clearly influenced by Prince, find Barnes with a newfound confidence toward the scene around him. Most notable are the instances where he turns a girl down for one with “SOUL POWAH” and later after seeing “the girl who left (him) bitter” he restrains himself from paying another to punch her in the face.

The best way I can sum up my reaction to the album would be to compare it to Michel Gondry’s The Science of Sleep. Just like Science, Hissing Fauna is an artsy-er, more experimental piece than it’s predecessor, with free flowing creativity that might overwhelm an audience not accustom to the quirks of its creator. To them I would recommend the artist’s earlier work (SUNLANDIC TWINS IS SUPER FUNTIME!) and if enjoyed, then to go right on ahead and disappear into the twisted world of these enigmatic minds.

-Published in the Rutgers Review 1/30/2007