of Montreal - False Priest

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.