If you are a musician who has suffered a break up, depression, death in the family or other similar misfortunes, you very well may be weeping at the core of your heart. But great emotion always, without fail, catalyzes great songs. Just ask Eric Clapton ? la "Tears in Heaven."
Kevin Barnes, head of Georgia's Of Montreal, spent the better part of his year traveling alone, depressed and forlorn while recording January's "Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?" Heartbroken as the hotel and as bitter as Alanis, Barnes puts his insides on display in creating one magnificent album.
Sprouting from Elephant Six Collective, a commune of bands where members are swapped around like baseball cards, Of Montreal helped define the Collective's second wave of '90s indie outfits with 1997's "Cherry Peel," along with bands like Beulah and Elf Power. Six albums later, Of Montreal has ditched the twee pop-storytelling nature of their earlier works for full fledged psychedelic synth-pop, and all while rapidly expanding their fan base.
Similarly, the lyrics have turned from a silly wish to change the gender of a friend ("Tim, I Wish You Were Born a Girl" from "Cherry Peel"), to despising the one who broke your heart. The stories on "Hissing Fauna" are based on Barnes' various tribulations, which leads to a darkly introspective feel. Despite the lyrical gloom, this album has all the musical pep of a coked- up cheerleading squad, urging listeners to get out of their seats and dance like no one's watching.
The album begins with "Suffer for Fashion," a succinct flurry of pumping drum machines and a hearty helping of lighthearted "whatevers." Immediately noted is Barnes' adept falsetto, heard in virtually every track. Its theatrical dips and peaks thoroughly entertain the ears and would make glam rocker Freddy Mercury proud.
Only on "Faberge Falls for Shuggie," a funk-saturated romp about sexual desire, do the high-pitched vocals cross into Bee Gees territory, conjuring unfortunate images of white jump suits and gratuitous chest hair.
Although the musical style and lyrical content found on "Hissing Fauna" seem discontinuous, Barnes maintains an appreciable sense of humor, making dreary topics easily digestible and often downright enjoyable. In "She's a Rejecter," Barnes freely admits, "There's the girl that left me bitter/ Want to pay some other girl to just walk up to her/ And hit her." This black buoyancy alongside hip-wiggling electro rhythms is ideal for dancing the deepest blues away.
Cutting through a chain of three-and-a-half-minute power jams is "The Past is a Grotesque Animal," a twelve-minute culmination of sound and emotion. The lyrics, with their candid evaluation of losing a loved one and losing one's mind, manage to touch a certain stoic nerve that rarely gets tickled. The crux of the track appears when Barnes distantly repeats, "Let's tear our f-ing bodies apart/ Let's just have some fun." However, with hardly a five second lull, this song may be more effective if it were shorter than an entire episode of "Aqua Teen Hunger Force."
Of Montreal's neo-psychedelic side makes several appearances throughout "Hissing Fauna," shoving its retro head through layers of synth acrobats and walloping beats. "Labyrinthian Pomp" has all the flower power silliness of The Flaming Lips on ... well, on whatever drug they're usually on. Even the lyrics take a breather with nonsensical mentions of the "C.C.A.A. Booty Patrol" and "Georgie Fruit," yet another reminder of the Lips' absurdity.
"A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger" borders on hyped-up disco, cementing "Hissing Fauna" as an indie kid's dance party staple. Due to the depression Barnes was facing while writing and recording, though, the lyrics do not necessarily correspond with their accompanying style. The song opens with, "I spent the winter/ On the verge of a total breakdown/ While living in Norway." These first lines are blatantly autobiographical - Barnes recorded most of the album alone in Norway.
Throughout "Hissing Fauna," Barnes deliberately explains the pain he has suffered. Maybe during the entirety of his melancholy Barnes knew he was soaking in great song material: Heartbreak? Depression? That'll work. Most miserable musicians utilize their feelings to create tear-jerking ballads for us to silently weep to with the door locked (thank you, "All By Myself"). Taking it a step further, Barnes has done something both unique and refreshing in deriving a cheerful electronic masterpiece from his troubles. He may be hurting, but anyone who hears this album will nonetheless get the inescapable urge to dance.
