It's pretty damn bad but hopefully your high when you read it because than it'll have some merit of literary astheticism
Satanic Panic in the Attic was my first of Montreal album, and effectively one of my earliest forays into the realm of indie music. I could go on all day about what indie music means to me, and to music in general, how it opened up the doors of creativity, and in the process allowed a rush of lame talents to take over the alternative world, or how it has produced more art school pricks than genuine musical entrepreneurs, but that would be an Illiad of epic jackassery considering more often than not I've no clue what I'm saying.
Oh right, this is supposed to be a quicky music review.
of Montreal's bouncy interpretation of psychedelic pop is made immediate with the opening track Disconnect the Dots. Laid back basslines with zig-zagging electronics provide the perfect background music for Mr. Barnes whimsical lyrics about the awkwardness that usually goes along with young love, and understand I'm utilizing the word love in the sense that the whole album has a feel of high-school sweetness about it, or perhaps I'm just getting nostalgic but I think it works and I'll run with it. Before I continue I should also mention that one of the greatest things about this album is the seriously playful rhythm section, which I suppose is acredited Glenn Schick for mastering it. The drums are immensely fun to listen to, setting up poppy beats while the happily drugged up bass skirts through each song with a personal mission to fill your ears with syrup.
Like everything in life, some stuff is better than others, and the songs on the album aren't any more special, or rather not in that sense. Every song has its own special identity. However, it may entice you to know there isn't a single weak track on the entire album. Sure, Eros’ Entropic Tundra’s lyrical execution could be more striking, and City Bird, pretty as it is, is just…well pretty, but in that lazy, fulfilling way only of Montreal is capable of. Still, check out what the greatest songs have to offer. Lysergic Bliss is all over the place, a dance off between Mr. Barnes layered vocals and contemplative piano, with some delicious guitar work in between. It even ends with a melancholy flute wondering what in the hell just happened prior to its arrival, ushered in by a British school teacher, no less. Speaking of things British, My British Tour Diary drips with respectable sarcasm and ends with a gnarly little dancehall number, by far one of the better examples of the band’s sense of humor. Spike The Senses cements of Montreal as sultans of psychedelia, with its hazy chorus and Mr. Barnes fumbling over his own personal anthem. The electronics found in the song remind me of the inspiring way a few 60’s pop bands used them, that is, to inspire flightiness, head-in-the-clouds euphoria, clam-bodied ease, and perhaps a bit of sophisticated drug abuse. And of course that damn piano. But really, the chorus itself is just wonderful, sort of like an Owsley Stanely burp.
I’m well aware this review will make little sense, but if it inspires a sense of exploration into a playground full of pop, love, loneliness, and confusion, then I’ve done my job of conveying what the album means to me
If not, you should still give it a spin. I mean, just look at that cover art. It’d be criminal for a band to release an album possessing that sort of image and then have it not be chock full of awesome music.
Really though I'm confident most of the people here would enjoy, if not outright wuv, this album
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