Congratulations by MGMT (2010)

After the last article’s exploration of the “return to form”, this review tackles another peculiarity in the music industry: the “difficult second album”. Especially in recent years, where artists are expected to produce saleable albums and less commercial work is discouraged or even blocked by record companies, an artist’s second album is often make-or-break. The albatross around the artists’ necks is particularly cumbersome if their first album was a hit. It raises expectations, interest and subsequently pressure. A standard solution to making a second album involves largely continuing the vibe of the original; coasting along with the original formula but with higher production values. Often, this is a good time to introduce synthesizers or orchestras to take the band’s sound to the next level. The second album often contains a single that sounds suspiciously like the first album to assure the public that the artist is still in shape. A large problem with second albums is the fact that all of the artist’s life experiences were distilled into the first; the second stereotypically deals with the newfound fame, or some kind of disillusionment following the previous album. Some notable “second albums” are Room on Fire (2003) by the Strokes, which largely follows the blueprint of its successful predecessor and Favourite Worst Nightmare (2007) by the Arctic Monkeys which keeps the atmosphere of the first, but beefs up the sound with more sonic layers.

MGMT spare us the wrestling about whether their second album is a suitable or worthy successor to 2008’s Oracular Spectacular by creating something almost incomparable. Oracular Spectacular was a somewhat patchy affair, but became a big hit in the months following its release through catchy, danceable “indie” singles like “Time to Pretend”, “Kids” and “Electric Feel”. The rest of the album showed a more experimental side, referencing 1970’s soft rock influences (particularly on “Of Moons, Birds & Monsters”), but the complete album is hit and miss. The logical and commercial thing to do at this point is focus on the pop songs, launch a second album with an instantly recognisable catchy lead single and hope to cross over to more mainstream audiences. Instead, the first song released from Congratulations was a psychedelic romp without a clear structure, chorus or even title, accompanied by a bizarre video:

When the album was released shortly after (generously still available for streaming on the band’s website), it became clear that none of the other tracks had much pop sensibility either. Where were the catchy analogue synthesizer hooks, indie drumming and disco beats from Oracular Spectacular?

MGMT has taken a left turn. The opening track (aptly titled “It’s Working”) features a harpsichord, cor anglais, a pounding rhythm section, Queen-style harmonies and an increasingly intense layering of the various elements. Andrew Vanwyngarden’s falsetto takes on more than aping Bee Gees disco hits this time around, as his echo-heavy multi-tracked lead vocals soar over the arrangement. The track recalls Arcade Fire in their more epic moments. What follows is a brief suite of energetic, inventive songs that provide the necessary ups and downs required to lure the listener into the rest of the album. This stretch of songs also includes the aforementioned “single” “Flash Delirium”, not one bit out of place in between its peers.

Track six, “Siberian Breaks” ends the run of short songs, and would presumably be the first track of the second side of the imaginary LP. By now the band’s 1970s influences are taking them through a prog phase, one that “Of Moons, Birds & Monsters” had only hinted at. The various parts of the twelve-minute song lull the listener through various permutations and dreamy sonic landscapes while never getting bogged down in the trappings of the prog rock genre (think of tights, celestial choirs and subdivided “movements”). It is rudely followed by the high energy thrust of tribute song “Brian Eno”, casting him as some kind of electro wizard villain (“we’re always one step behind him/Brian Eno!”). Surprisingly informative (it even mentions Eno’s “Oblique Strategies” cards used in Bowie’s Berlin Trilogy), this is one of the few songs that could be considered single material, in that it has a proper verse/chorus/verse structure. Its exhausting tempo and geeky subject matter disqualify it somewhat, however.

MGMT cannot be commended enough for crafting Congratulations as their difficult second album. They gave their inspiration and influences free reign, resisted the urge to cash in on their pop success and produced what can already be considered one of the highlights of 2010. Congratulations indeed!

Zuma by Neil Young (1975)

A very specific genre of albums invariably exists in every recording artist’s back catalogue: the “return to form”. Clichéd as it is, the label is often appended by record companies hoping to recover sales figures after an artist’s (less commercial) experimental whims. By this logic, Zuma breaks the downward trend that Neil Young’s career had taken after the success of 1972’s soft-country rock album Harvest, which contained the massive hit “Heart of Gold”. As Young would put it himself in the liner notes to the mid-career compilation Decade: “Heart of Gold put me in the middle of the road. Travelling there became a bore so I headed for the ditch. A rougher ride, but I saw more interesting people there.” The three albums that followed; Time Fades Away (1973, out of print), On the Beach (1974) and Tonight’s the Night (1975) are known as the ditch trilogy, distinctly uncommercial, therapeutic howlings that were recorded in a haze of mourning, weed and tequila. Needless to say, their commercial appeal at the time is inversely proportional to their subsequent acclaim. These albums are widely cited as Young’s strongest work.

Illustration 1: The Pacific Coast Highway, just above Zuma Beach and Sea Level Drive, where Young resided while recording Zuma. [Courtesy of Google Maps' Streetview]

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A direct cause for Young’s ditch trilogy, and particularly Tonight’s the Night was the passing of Crazy Horse guitarist Danny Whitten, who overdosed on heroin just after being laid off rehearsals for the Time Fades Away tour. The hole this left in the band meant that Young would collaborate with the other members on his subsequent albums, but not under the Crazy Horse moniker. Zuma marks the first time in 6 years that the Horse played under that name with Neil Young, thanks to the recruitment of Frank “Poncho” Sampedro as the second guitarist intrinsic to the Crazy Horse sound. Here then, do we encounter this fabled “return to form” for the band: the new line-up could continue where “Cowgirl in the Sand” left off in 1969. It must be conceded that Zuma shows a happier band, allowing for a less post-apocalyptic sound than its trilogy of predecessors. Young had finally finished with his wife, Carrie Snodgress. The relationship had fuelled the optimism of Harvest and the despair of On the Beach and the unreleased Homegrown (1975, unreleased). Feeling free, rejuvenated by his new band, Young and his entourage set up shop in the beautiful setting of a home on Malibu’s titular Zuma beach. The drug use continued, but in a more positive vein than on Tonight’s the Night. “Poncho’s such a cool guy. […] I went down to Ensenada with him and we had a great weekend. Drinking beer and tequila at Hussong’s Cantina. Got completely shitfaced. So drunk we could barely walk. My hair caught on fire. Jesus Christ.” Young would nostalgically recall some fifteen years hence. [Jimmy McDonough, Shakey, 490]

Illustration 2: Hair distinctly not on fire: Neil Young and Crazy Horse, 1975. Newcomer Sampedro second from right. [Source]

And yet, Zuma is more than Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere pt. II. Yes, it is a return to more conventional hard rock, with two guitars, bass and drums, but its soundscape and attitude is unique. The loose playing bears only a little resemblance to Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, indebted as that album was to the sounds of the 1960s. This is an update of Crazy Horse in a mid-1970s setting. Rather than becoming as slick and bland as the Eagles, the Horse uses technical advances to sound more ragged and unadulterated than ever. Thankfully, this new set of songs is also arguably the strongest released by Young on a single album. “Don’t Cry No Tears” is an immediately cheery opener to the album, giving a clear indication of the new page being turned. What follows is one of the album’s two “epic” tracks, “Danger Bird”. Presumably somehow related to the album’s crude cover (a rough drawing that was immediately selected by Young before it could be further developed), the seven-minute track is an instant highlight, showcasing the new chemistry between the two guitarists. Beautifully recorded, and presented in nicely separated stereo, the rhythm and lead guitar by Sampedro and Young respectively create a delicately woven wall of sound that intertwines into a gloriously messy crunch. The loose extended jam is entirely led by guitars; drums and bass do not dictate the pacing and only follow. The rhythm guitar crunches along with the plodding bass, leaving Young’s lead free to add flourishes. The occasional soaring background vocals paint the picture of the bird flying despite its wings having “turned to stone”. “Pardon My Heart”, originally demoed with CSN, is the sole acoustic respite to the amplified onslaught on Zuma, a delicate track that would not have sounded out of place on On The Beach or Homegrown. Reflecting Young’s new single life in Malibu, “Lookin’ For A Love” is a remarkably cheerful self-examination, imagining himself moving on with life with a new lover. The flipside of the Malibu experience can be found on “Barstool Blues”, a drunkenly slurred (and not entirely un-Youngly screeched) up-and-down ramble about booze and women, backed by ragged guitar interplay.

Side two opens on a real standout track. “Stupid Girl” is menacing in its duality. It erases all memories of the Stones’ 1966 song and Mick Jagger prancing around Carnaby Street in striped drainpipes and winkle pickers. Ostensibly about Joni Mitchell, guitars dominate this track, creating a seesaw rhythm and an offbeat rhythm lick. Young’s vocals are double-tracked; screeching high and threateningly low. “Drive Back” is a remarkably unremarkable stomp, the kind of macho posturing best left to spandex-wearing lunatics. A centrepiece of the album, “Cortez the Killer” is a fan favourite, and the second of the “epic” tracks. Its introduction lasts some three minutes before the vocals start (just like Bowie’s Station to Station, released the next year). The track fades out around the seven minute mark, before the narrative can reach a proper arc. This is due to the fact that the recording engineer had run out of tape as the band played. “Through My Sails” serves as the album’s epilogue, as if the credits roll by accompanied by CSNY’s soothingly harmonized near-a cappella nursery rhyme.

Illustration 3: "Cortez the Killer" performed by Young and Crazy Horse, 1978. From the Rust Never Sleeps film, 1979.

Young would tour briefly with Crazy Horse, presumably a spectacular show, though with little documentation. Hopefully the imminent second volume of the Archives will shed light on this period. [Update 31/7/10: It has been announced that a 1976 concert recorded in Japan will be released as part of the Archives 2 set.] Young would unexpectedly shapeshift, leaving Crazy Horse without its leader for the umpteenth time. He joined Stephen Stills for an unremarkable album, and a disastrous tour that Young had to escape from midway in 1976. Zuma represents a career highlight; it feels fresh thanks to the new blood in the band, it closes off a difficult period for Young (no matter how productive) and it delivers sensational country-hard-rock in a dense package.