False Priest
(Polyvinyl, 2010)
False Priest is an experience; it is one of those albums that more or less constantly astound you. Listening to it is like looking into an intense kaleidoscope; it meshes together so many exuberant colors and genres that it is overwhelming for most of the 53 minutes of playtime. Musically, the only through line is a constant, funky bass, tying the songs, which reference or imitate genres as varying as r&b, pop, alt rock, and blues rock, into an exhilarating, depressing, danceable, and introspective collection of music.
Listeners familiar with Of Montreal will most likely be unsurprised by the senseless lyrics (e.g. “The zombie’s licking your window for black body radiation, love breaks the machine”), ridiculous synthesizers (see: every song), and bipolar sensibilities. However, this album does expand in many ways from previous albums; for instance, the vocals are incredibly inventive, even in relation to previous albums. Also, there are some cacophonous moments, particularly in “Godly Intersex”, that break into interesting new territory. One of the strongest songs is “Sex Karma”, in which Kevin Barnes collaborates in a unique vocal chorus with Janelle Monáe.
The main thing holding False Priest from being a landmark achievement for Of Montreal is the last 3 songs, each of which gets darker and stranger as it goes. There is some truly phantasmal wailing on “Around the Way” on violins, and “You do Mutilate?” finishes the album awkwardly and disturbingly. Besides the last three songs, though, False Priest is rather good indeed.
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