As far as of Montreal albums go, 2010's False Priest was a relatively straightforward affair—equal parts Prince, cocaine high and Young Americans-era David Bowie. The same can't be said for the Athens, GA troupe's eleventh album Paralytic Stalks (out Feb. 7), an almost somber treatise on modern classical instrumentation and no-wave atonality. Easily the gloomiest thing Kevin Barnes has written since Hissing Fauna, the (of course) sprawling arrangements here sound deceptively lush and sweet on the surface with twinking pianos and warm violins to spare, but the beneath the la-la-las and doot-doot-doos, there's a bitter cynicism that, in true of Montreal fashion, you can't really pinpoint except to say, "I know I'm hearing it in there... somewhere."
"Gelid Ascent" kicks off on a low bass throb, rolling suddenly into a dense haze of backwards tape loops and swirling guitar feedback. "To be dead is to be confused," Barnes warns bafflingly, soon before things take a turn towards late '60s acid rock territory. The song builds into an almost post-rockish peak of electric guitar indulgence before dropping out into the plucky electro-meets-piano-pop bounce of "Spiteful Intervention". "It's f—king sad that we need a tragedy to occur to gain a fresh perspective in our lives," Barnes muses bitterly amidst the ever-shifting tempo and dynamic changes, quickly embracing the darkness by boasting: "I made the one I love start crying tonight, and it felt good!"
The album doesn't mine one specific sonic territory the way False Priest dug through decades of funk rock and prog-glam— the closest aesthetic comparison I could make is to Yoshimi-era Flaming Lips; note the robotic beats and syrupy sweet string arrangements throughout "We Will Commit Wolf Murder" (fantastic title) and "Ye, Renew The Plaintiff". (The latter delves freely into chamber pop, Pixies-era garage rock, and free-form jazz experimentia without missing a proverbial beat.) "Wintered Debts" opens with a surprisingly pitch-perfect Elliott Smith homage (even down to the mild analogue tape warble) that veers off into trademark of Montreal territory sooner than it should—layers of backwards strings, processed pianos, flutes, and even lap steel fills can't compare with the direct, engaging sound of Kevin Barnes' voice over a soft guitar strum.
Speaking of layers, I don't think the seven-plus minute "Exorcismic Breeding Knife?" merits more than half a listen—its directionless "Revolution 9"-style atonality brings the album's momentum to a dead halt. Final number "Authentic Pyrrhic Remission" is twice as long and infinitely more effective—opening with a chopping, crunching electro groove, the uptempo (dare I say "feel-good") grand finale descends into a long, extended hum of violin bowing and strange analogue sounds before fading out in favor of startling no-nonsense piano/strings balladry. I can't stress enough how refreshing it is to hear a simple, old-fashioned piano/strings/vocal arrangement after nearly an hour of restless expenditurism.
I suspect of Montreal have traveled too far aesthetically to ever return to their modest off-Broadway art pop roots, but all free-form experimenting and frustratingly off-the-wall song structures are, somehow, still impressive all these albums later. Spare yourself the headache trying to stay two steps ahead of Kevin Barnes and just enjoy Paralytic Stalks for what it is—another one of their "weird ones".
SumOlogy: of Montreal fans who prefer Kevin Barnes when he's off the deep end will be ecstatic. Curious bystanders will hear five minutes of it and run for the hills.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
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