“Taliesin… I sing perfect metre, which will last till the end of the world. I know why there is echo in a hollow, why silver gleams…” begins the spoken-word accompaniment to the utterly-masterful synth instrumentals of “Loss of Life (Part 2).” It serves as the curiously-named opening track of, and prelude to MGMT’s eponymous first major-studio album since 2018.
The renowned experimental rock band, fronted by Andrew VanWyngarden and Benjamin Goldwasser, may come across as something of a one-album wonder to most people with the release of their debut album “Oracular Spectacular” in 2008. But to suggest that they have failed to reclaim the level of mainstream success they once had would be missing the point by a country mile . Far from having spent all of their creative energy on “Kids”, their subsequent and no less exquisite output reflects the band’s steadfast commitment to its internal and proudly independent creative drive, refusing to record highly-marketable material, even if the resulting lack of radio airplay and other forms of promotion on the part of record companies stands to relegate them from superstardom back to more indie levels of popularity.
However, neither “Loss of Life,” released in February of 2024, nor their earlier albums contain any purely experimental or avant-garde music. Their signature kaleidoscopic sound, with layered synths and warped psychedelic harmonies, almost always keeps the other foot planted in the realm of more conventional rock and pop, and does so to great effect. Some liken the experience to listening to music on hallucinogenic drugs when they hear the fusion of the otherworldly synths with the lead guitar and drums, in this case replicating ‘90s pop ballads more so than their previous ‘80s influences.
Indeed, MGMT’s music is far more accessible to “philistines” than its lack of reach might imply. The band’s disillusionment with the stylistic demands made of them by major record labels and the knock-on effects of their own fame are a perennial theme in their lyrics; simultaneously wishing for their style of music to be appreciated as much as trite mainstream modern pop, yet groaning under the pressure of success.
This perhaps contradictory attitude is illustrated in track #9, “I Wish I Was Joking,” where lead vocalist Andrew “wishes he was joking” about the drudgery of fatherhood, while distancing himself from past drug use. The previous track, “Phradie’s Song” is more unequivocally positive, being dedicated to his two-year-old daughter Phradie as a sort of lullaby.
Dancing in Babylon, third on the album, features French artist Rahim Redcar in the band’s first such collaboration. More ballad-like than the rest to start, but introducing obvious melodic callbacks to the group’s first albums as it progresses, the song, like a few others on the album, is a commentary on what the band perceives as the decadence of modern society and politics, but carries a positive and optimistic message of spreading joy.
“Bubblegum Dog,” an upbeat fan favorite, emphasises the value of musical originality, and exposing oneself to influences worldwide and throughout time. MGMT has always practiced what they preach here, from the synth sounds evocative, intentionally or not, of “obsolete” instruments like the harpsichord and cornett, to the poem in this album’s first track — translated from its original Welsh, and attributed to the legendary bard Taliesin, it is thought to date back at least 1,000 years.
Upon discovering the origin of these lyrics, I was immediately reminded of the semi-historical painting “The Bard” by John Martin, depicting a fictional Welsh bard similar to Taliesin standing defiantly atop a cliff, in a landscape based on a real location but hugely exaggerated in scale for dramatic effect. Set in the 13th century, the bard prepares to jump into the river and meet his end on his own terms as the invading English army is seen snaking down the valley.
References to death are peppered throughout the record, culminating in the final track, and in my opinion the highlight of the album, “Loss of Life.” However, unlike the implied fate of the bard, anything macabre about the material is merely metaphorical. The album can instead be seen as the musical equivalent of the “Death” card in tarot fortune-telling, which does not signify literal death, but rather the death of old ways of life and personal rebirth.
If this interpretation isn’t evident enough from the album’s overall tone and lyrics in which the band members yearn for both personal and societal restructuring, and the correction of past mistakes, remember the out-of-order naming touched upon earlier – “Loss of Life (Part 2),” at the beginning of the album, shares the melody of the album-ending track, and can easily be listened to right after it as a continuation.
Taliesin isn’t about to jump, for he hasn’t given up on himself or his society — he’s only just getting started.
