Of Montreal
False Priest
Rating: 4.0/5.0
Label: Polyvinyl
In the living things that experience a larval stage, it is a step towards the creation of an identity that remains until the inevitable death that comes after the need to mate. It’s possible that Kevin Barnes saw this future for himself, saw that like everyone else, he too would be stuck with whatever he emerged as from his cocoon and chose instead to rebel. That would make the original psychedelic phase of Of Montreal just a second cocoon and its new incarnation as glam-funk superstars some other transformation altogether.
If that’s the case, Barnes and company seem to be more comfortable in their new skin than they ever were back in the Elephant 6 days. Since 2002′s Aldhils Arboretum, Barnes’ strength as a songwriter has grown considerably, positing him as a hybridization of Prince and Bowie, sharing the two’s interests in flamboyant theatrics and chameleonic abilities as well as their knack for knocking out innovative works. False Priest is a natural continuation of Barnes’ progression towards more synth and dance-heavy sounds even as it’s an opportunity for him to stretch out and pull the worlds of other genres into his universe. “Godly Intersex” acts as its clearest distillation of its myriad styles, taking a disco beat and falsetto vocals and joining them up with Barnes’ surrealist lyrical vision and some healthy punk aggression to boot, making it a map of sorts for the album at large.
Just like pretty much everything Barnes has done since The Sunlandic Twins broke the band to the masses, False Priest is comfortable in its weirdness, making Barnes’ debauched enlightenment a virtue even if it lacks some of the novelty and punch of its predecessors. It’s almost impossible to imagine anyone else making something like, say, “Hydra Fancies” work; with its dirty bassline, Philly soul backing vocals and glam rock intersections; the song should be a disaster of contrasting flavors but in Barnes’ hands, it makes the listener feel like half of an incestuous relationship, immersed in passionate love that is by all rights so wrong.
That feeling that you’re in the middle of something you shouldn’t be pervades False Priest, causing descriptions of its sound to fall flat and seem like typical critical insanity. How else to describe “Coquet Coquette” except as highly addictive, psycho surf music? Or the Solange Knowles-backed “Sex Karma” as post-modern R&B? Language fails when presented with the weird wild world of Of Montreal, leading any conversation about False Priest to center around the phrase You Just Have to Hear It.
But hearing False Priest is by no means a chore, the album mostly impeccable up until unnecessary closer “You Do Mutate?” which sounds more like the Flight of the Conchords take on Of Montreal rather than the band proper. The number of groups that are pushing the boundaries of pop as effectively as Of Montreal are minimal, innovation so often appearing difficult or insurmountable instead of palatable. It’s clear that Barnes has a precise ear for the pop sphere, his mastery of hooks unquestionable but the more important aspect of his work is that he sacrifices nothing in his pursuit of that sound, seeing no reason to silence his less mainstream impulses and instead choosing to find a way to fit them into the puzzle of the hit parade. Barnes can juggle kiss-off rock numbers (“Famine Affairs”), cabaret ballads (“Casualty of You”) and coke-fueled disco (“Girl Named Hello”) without skipping a beat. The question then becomes not “how is such a weird outfit so successful?” but “how are they not more successful?”
