Third album from the slick whimsy of psychodelicrates Andrew VanWyngarden and Benjamin Goldwasser.
Self-titled. I mean, why not? And at the same time, why?
As convoluted as the album. As androgynous as a goldfish. Makes a skateboarder skatebored.
Hard to tell them apart. I’m not being sarcastic. I’ve listened to the album several times over the last week and have trouble remembering a single one. Something about Alien Days? That’s one. Oh and there are some girls in an ocean I think.
It is like a series of dreams that meld together to form one big nonsensical dream. The product of too many ideas, or drugs, this album is devoid of personality or character. I’m very impressed with their ability to make really trippy sounds ,dude, but I’m not high on hand sanitizer right now so I’m a bit underwhelmed.
I wanted greatness, but all I got were a bunch of great sounds thrown together in a mishmash of malarkey. Like an online date that doesn’t live up to their website photo, this album sure as shit shat the bed. It was like they didn’t care, or cared too much, or wanted us to think either or. None of the magic or infectiousness of Oracular Spectacular, none of the growth of Congratulations. Like kids with too many toys, MGMT played with them all and got bored within minutes.
Bar Personality (if the album were, you know, a person in a bar)
That kid that was cool in high school but then did all the drugs, got all the tattoos, and now wants you to know how cooler he/she is now than they were then. Cry alone in your beer lonely soldier, there will be a time when your re-identify with yourself…I hope.
1.5 Tesla coil powered theremins out of 5.