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The Sunlandic Twins
Artist:
Of Montreal
Format: CD
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Hailing from Athens, Of Montreal have carved their own niche in the indie-pop world, establishing themselves as a uniquely twisted band that thrills fans with compelling live performances, delights critics with their constant innovations and refinements, and continually showcases their musical evolution that culls together influences as varied as Brian Eno, Television, Prince and the Shins. The SUNLANDIC TWINS is their most cohesive and adventurous record to date. It plays out like an electro pop opera. Beginning buoyant and opalescent, traversing a labyrinthine Neptune and climaxing in blackout darkness one only discovers in war solitude.Reviews:
Over the course of an impressive eight year career, Of Montreal (the pet project of Athens, Georgia songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Kevin Barnes) has developed a grand reputation for pilfering the very best of pop history, snatching nuggets from a variety of lauded practitioners, (Brian Wilson and the Beatles, especially) and synthesizing those giddy bits into a new and hysterical swirl. The Sunlandic Twins, Of Montreal's eighth full-length, recaptures the orchestrated fervor of its acclaimed predecessor, 2003's Satanic Panic in the Attic, shuddering and flailing like the Shins on roller-skates. Or maybe Devo on speed."I Was Never Young" shifts from unintelligible blather-chants into a loose, elastic melody, anchored by cheap beats and giggly retro flourishes, while "Forecast Fascist Future" spins tinny guitars into AM radio gold. "The Party's Crashing Us" is all disco rhythm and handclaps, with enough bizarre lyrics ("We made love like a pair of black wizards!") and silly background harmonies to make the title seem strangely apropos. Barnes' vocals are so thick and layered that he occasionally sounds like a short-circuiting robot, a conceit which works remarkably well, given the record's weird electro obsessions. Still, even though Barnes' dizzying arrangements and tweaked structures are technically impressive, The Sunlandic Twins can also feel bloated and overstuffed, crammed full with too much sound-snippets of noise ooze into every crevice, synthesizers bleating in all directions, castanets rattling in the background, cowbells yawping, drums popping up and receding, vocals shooting into oblivion. Barnes' woozy enthusiasm is as endearing as it is challenging, but all that hyperactivity doesn't exactly allow the record much room to breathe. Consequently, listening to it can be a vaguely exhausting-if joyful-experience.
