Polyvinyl

It's no exaggeration to say there's been something of a love affair growing over the past few years with a throwback surf-meets-garage punk sound, a movement that's seen Brooklyn all-girl trio Vivian Girls installed as tattoo-clad frontrunners.
 
Having only formed in 2007, it seems rather odd that the Polyvinyl-signed band are already releasing their third studio album. This writer first stumbled across them a couple of years back upon hearing 'When I'm Gone', a cut from 2009's Everything Goes Wrong LP that instantly caught my attention. Its chorus began swarming around my head: lush, under-mixed female harmonies buried beneath warm and scrappy guitars. After a few more plays, though, I began to notice something wasn’t quite right about the track... It turned out the entire song was just the same chorus part played three times in a row, with some noodling to fill out the track-length; it was hard not to feel a little bit short-changed. That was then, however, and I figured a clean slate was in order before I sat down with the band's brand new offering, Share The Joy.
 
'The Other Girls' opens up proceedings in a distorted frenzy before quickly morphing into a harmony-laden diary entry, lead singer Cassie Ramone sighing a weary refrain of "I don't wanna be like the other girls / I just wanna spend my time inside my mind." Although enjoyable, the track's six-and-a-half-minute running time is a little unnecessary and self-indulgent, when half that would easily have sufficed. Lead single 'I Heard You Say' hits the spot more so: a pithy micro-anthem that brings to mind Arthur Lee's Love in parts, there's a real feeling of heartbreak shared among all three voices... Why can’t they all be this good? 'Dance (If You Wanna)' is a short stab at sugary pop (and yes, you really could dance to it), while 'Trying to Pretend' is clouded and easily forgettable. 'Sixteen Ways', meanwhile, is reminiscent of Goo-era Sonic Youth – you can almost hear Kim Gordon snarling "They shot my baby by mistaaake..." – but regrettably does little to pick up the pace of the album as a whole.
 
Elsewhere, 'Take It As It Comes' is an optimistic sister song to Nada Surf’s 'Popular', conversational verses between band members offering dating advice on how to win over ‘Johnny’ in a faux-innocent '50s style ("If I show up at his house, he'll fall in love with me...", "You gotta be strong, girl..." etc. etc.). At this point, one can but hope this shtick is intended to be tongue-in-cheek, but unfortunately it dangles a bit too close to the edge of cringe-worthiness for its own good.
 
Having now put out three full-length records since late 2008, it's hard to escape the feeling that Vivian Girls might just be rushing through it all a little. Share The Joy does have enjoyable moments here and there; unfortuately, however, there's just too much mediocrity and not enough joy to share overall.

Whether performing naked, adopting an array of bizarre alter-egos or stuffing his songs with every idea imaginable, Kevin Barnes has cut an undeniably maverick figure in recent years, and one for whom restraint would not appear to be an option. The good news for fans of  the caped frontman’s unhinged musical leanings is that False Priest continues this zany trend: the tenth studio LP from Barnes’ of Montreal collective is an utterly bonkers slab of indie-funk, peppered with forays into garage rock, spoken word oddities and no small amount of whimsy.

Relatively late bloomers, of Montreal’s 2007 release Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer? was one of the best near-misses of recent years. It came on like an instant classic, as the delirious pop of the first half gave way to the screamingly intense krautrock of ‘The Past Is A Grotesque Animal’, only for the record to stall amid a hit-and-miss final third in which Barnes performed as his cross-dressing alter-ego by the name of (ahem) Georgie Fruit. Bafflingly, the Georgie Fruit persona was carried wholesale on to 2008’s Skeletal Lamping, to virtually impenetrable effect. It all served to underline the truth that of Montreal are best when at their most direct.

There’s not much that’s direct about False Priest, but it’s certainly more accessible than its predecessor, and contains several moments of trademark brilliance.  It’s an unmistakably of Montreal affair – the falsettos, ah-ah-ah-ah-aaah vocal tics, sex obsession and sense of high camp are all present and correct. Girl-of-the-moment Janelle Monáe, who invited Barnes & co. to guest on her recent breakthrough The ArchAndroid LP, turns up to lend her star quality (and possibly a few of her frocks) on ‘Enemy Gene’, and the result is one of the album’s strongest choruses; ‘Hydra Fancies’, meanwhile, sees Barnes live out his Philly-soul Todd Rundgren fantasies; lead single ‘Coquet Coquette’ is a Nuggetsesque garage rocker with a straight-up killer melody and forward momentum that makes it a surefire winner – if only they’d wear this look more often. Elsewhere, though, they misstep frustratingly: ‘Girl Named Hello’ is all funk and no tune; the barmy spoken word of ‘Our Riotous Defects’, also featuring  Monáe, impresses with some funny lines (“I wore coloured contacts to match your dresses”) only to lose its nerve on a chorus with all the personality of a wet Tuesday. The riot of ideas and colour is never quite as much fun as it sounds; over the course of these thirteen tracks it all becomes a bit too much like hard work.

Ultimately, the frustrations with of Montreal remain. False Priest is neither the best nor worst album of what’s been an idiosyncratic career to date; rather, it’s a worthwhile addition to a deeply weird catalogue that sees them continue to stick to their own, scarcely-beaten path. But it’s not the masterpiece their wired intensity and luminous talent suggests they might have in their locker. Maybe next time.