Innocence Reaches

OF MONTREAL

Polyvinyl

I’m instantly irritated by unwarranted French and forced lowercase, but this band’s reputation has always preceded itself in my mind, so I’m excited for the opportunity to finally get to know them. This is album number 14; I have previously heard album number three, “The Gay Parade,” exactly once, and I’m struck by the same observations I was back then: smart (maybe too smart), confident (maybe too confident), and an irritatingly flat mix. It’s eclectic, though, which overrides the latter point. Maybe if Bowie had tempered his electro-fluff period with a couple rockers, “Never Let Me Down” wouldn’t have failed its title so miserably.

Ironically, one of these grace-saving rockers is “les chants de maldoror,” which juxtaposes its lyrical obscurity against a backdrop of “(ruined) hotel beds.” But I can’t imagine this was intentional — most of these songs are kind of stupid. When they’re not, they’re miserably downcast (“def pacts”), misguided (“it’s different for girls”), or bromidic (“let’s relate”). I don’t expect Kevin Barnes to minimize his depression, confusion, or off-kilter brand of intelligence, but the twisted “my fair lady,” the Kirkwood-esque “chaos arpeggiating” and the dark New Order rip “chap pilot” do more with less and suggest higher purpose. So while I can’t deny the grooves or melodies (however familiar), I suspect this band has more consistent albums. 

Why Do You Look Like Your Dog?

MACULA DOG

Wharf Cat

There’s no accounting for (good) taste. A Residents tribute band might seem unnecessary — we still have the Residents (I hope, I think) — but these guys seem more on the flavor side of things than the Residents’ epistemological discourse. Macula Dog don’t seem intent on being understood; I don’t know if the physical release has a lyric sheet, but I doubt it matters. The qualia produced by the assimilation of these song titles and what other words aren’t distorted are intermittently satisfying: “Smokestack” and “Droppings and Grapefruit” are hits, and the “Dog Food” series is compelling. The album’s title poses an accusatory question that is quickly turned inward by the almost-title track. That shows humility.

As for the music, it’d be improper to call it performance art. This is a little too careful and programmed to be expressionist — even “Trout Mask Replica” had more feeling in regard to outsider music. But for those of us with muted emotion rather than stunted affect, this stuff can be therapeutic. It has a human quality that isn’t related so much to the occasional undistorted voice as it is the syncopation. That brings them closer to their Big Apple forefathers Talking Heads. I don’t expect or even hope that Macula Dog find the in-spite-of-himself tunefulness of David Byrne in coming years, but I do hope they continue to grow like the wonderful weeds they can be.

Travis Johnson lives in New London. He has a music blog that can be found at theoldnoise.blogspot.com. Follow him @ThisOldNoise or contact him at thisoldnoise@gmail.com.