Ever since Oracular Spectacular became a surprise touchstone for the modern age (and providing endless licensing opportunities for synth-driven pop acts), MGMT has crafted their career in a largely reactionary manner; every subsequent single and record has worked increasingly hard to distance itself from that breakthrough. Herein lies some controversy, since Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasser have demeaned both Oracular and its defining hits, referring to them in a recent Pitchfork interview as "some stupid songs that we wrote in college." However, "Kids," "Electric Feel," and especially "Time To Pretend," while being extremely catchy earworms, also happened to be intelligently crafted tunes, and have proven to stand up to repeated listening and scrutiny.
Still, this was not how VanWyngarden and Goldwasser wanted to be perceived, so they began to retreat. Congratulations, their sophomore release, didn't spawn any hits, sold a fraction of the copies Oracular did, and was viewed as a breaking point by critics and longtime fans. Returning to that record though, one can find at least half the record brimming with hooks, the band almost overflowing with ideas. It's not that the record wasn't catchy, just relentlessly so, no one song settling into a groove, but still managing to make a strong impression. In other words, it wasn't the dive into the rabbit hole so many thought it would be. Instead, they saved that move for their latest, MGMT.
A self-titled release is usually presented as the one where an artist views themselves as having found a true definition of what they mean their name to convey (or for a debut album). So, here, presented for the first time is the "true" MGMT. So what does that mean, exactly? Well, for starters, gone are the ADD-like tendencies from Congratulations. In its place are long, ill-defined grooves that meander aimlessly, getting swallowed up by gurgling synths and other obscure sounds that cram into any available space, courtesy of the Flaming Lips and every-other-band-ever produced by Dave Fridmann. The sounds themselves are fantastic; MGMT is, at the least, an immaculately produced record. It’s just that there seems to be no discernible point to all the clutter, with noises stepping on one another for attention while not adding up to much.
Maybe the problem lies with the songs themselves. Unlike Congratulations, which brimmed with ideas, MGMT showcases the band at their most minimal in regard to song structure, opting to explore one idea and find variances in each song, rather than jumping around. Where the former was exciting in its unpredictability, MGMT becomes tedious as it grinds forward. Songs like "An Orphan Of Fortune" and "A Good Sadness," especially, are a couple of the more egregious offenders, just rolling ever onward without any moment that sticks out among all the ephemera. And "Astro-Mancy" might be their worst song yet, a Bizarro universe take on Oracular’s "Of Moons, Birds, & Monsters." It's an absolutely unforgiving song that sees the group indulging in all their worst instincts. Again, there's only so much weak songwriting that studio trickery can make up for.
That isn't to say that MGMT is a total washout. The first half of the record in particular is quite strong. Singles "Alien Days" and "Your Life Is A Lie" both stand as the catchiest moments here, but neither ascends to the best moments on previous records (however, the "Your Life Is A Lie" video is the best of the year, so good it makes the song better). Discernible melodies are present among the murk, "Alien Days" especially, although, like much of the record, it seems to drag on past its endpoint. Elsewhere, "Mystery Disease" rides the best groove on the record to great effect, pounding drums giving way to haunting keyboards while VanWyngarden waxes poetic nonsense in the murk, and "Plenty Of Girls In The Sea," although it shamelessly steals its groove from Michael Jackson's "The Way You Make Me Feel," provides a welcome late-album break from the madness with a goofy sea shanty (and includes the lyric "and plenty of those are not women," providing both levity and avoiding charges of sexism).
However, among all these songs, MGMT's defining song is the one they didn't write. "Introspection," originally by forgotten '60s folk singer Faine Jade, defines the band’s mission statement in its title alone, as well as showcasing their knowledge as record geeks. And with its Village Green-era Kinks bounce, it's just about the best thing here. It seems that all MGMT wants is to just be themselves. Still, with all the railing against what defined them in the first place, maybe they're trying to become something they aspire to be. MGMT doesn't shed any light on their identity, though; it propels them into even murkier waters. In the end, for better or worse, the album title is apt. MGMT ends up being just as confused as its namesake.
Grade: C+
Still, this was not how VanWyngarden and Goldwasser wanted to be perceived, so they began to retreat. Congratulations, their sophomore release, didn't spawn any hits, sold a fraction of the copies Oracular did, and was viewed as a breaking point by critics and longtime fans. Returning to that record though, one can find at least half the record brimming with hooks, the band almost overflowing with ideas. It's not that the record wasn't catchy, just relentlessly so, no one song settling into a groove, but still managing to make a strong impression. In other words, it wasn't the dive into the rabbit hole so many thought it would be. Instead, they saved that move for their latest, MGMT.
A self-titled release is usually presented as the one where an artist views themselves as having found a true definition of what they mean their name to convey (or for a debut album). So, here, presented for the first time is the "true" MGMT. So what does that mean, exactly? Well, for starters, gone are the ADD-like tendencies from Congratulations. In its place are long, ill-defined grooves that meander aimlessly, getting swallowed up by gurgling synths and other obscure sounds that cram into any available space, courtesy of the Flaming Lips and every-other-band-ever produced by Dave Fridmann. The sounds themselves are fantastic; MGMT is, at the least, an immaculately produced record. It’s just that there seems to be no discernible point to all the clutter, with noises stepping on one another for attention while not adding up to much.
Maybe the problem lies with the songs themselves. Unlike Congratulations, which brimmed with ideas, MGMT showcases the band at their most minimal in regard to song structure, opting to explore one idea and find variances in each song, rather than jumping around. Where the former was exciting in its unpredictability, MGMT becomes tedious as it grinds forward. Songs like "An Orphan Of Fortune" and "A Good Sadness," especially, are a couple of the more egregious offenders, just rolling ever onward without any moment that sticks out among all the ephemera. And "Astro-Mancy" might be their worst song yet, a Bizarro universe take on Oracular’s "Of Moons, Birds, & Monsters." It's an absolutely unforgiving song that sees the group indulging in all their worst instincts. Again, there's only so much weak songwriting that studio trickery can make up for.
That isn't to say that MGMT is a total washout. The first half of the record in particular is quite strong. Singles "Alien Days" and "Your Life Is A Lie" both stand as the catchiest moments here, but neither ascends to the best moments on previous records (however, the "Your Life Is A Lie" video is the best of the year, so good it makes the song better). Discernible melodies are present among the murk, "Alien Days" especially, although, like much of the record, it seems to drag on past its endpoint. Elsewhere, "Mystery Disease" rides the best groove on the record to great effect, pounding drums giving way to haunting keyboards while VanWyngarden waxes poetic nonsense in the murk, and "Plenty Of Girls In The Sea," although it shamelessly steals its groove from Michael Jackson's "The Way You Make Me Feel," provides a welcome late-album break from the madness with a goofy sea shanty (and includes the lyric "and plenty of those are not women," providing both levity and avoiding charges of sexism).
However, among all these songs, MGMT's defining song is the one they didn't write. "Introspection," originally by forgotten '60s folk singer Faine Jade, defines the band’s mission statement in its title alone, as well as showcasing their knowledge as record geeks. And with its Village Green-era Kinks bounce, it's just about the best thing here. It seems that all MGMT wants is to just be themselves. Still, with all the railing against what defined them in the first place, maybe they're trying to become something they aspire to be. MGMT doesn't shed any light on their identity, though; it propels them into even murkier waters. In the end, for better or worse, the album title is apt. MGMT ends up being just as confused as its namesake.
Grade: C+
there's a lot of spacey tribal stuff going on in the record.