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Neutral Milk Hotel In the Aeroplane Over the Sea Released in 1998 10.0/10 Styles Psychedelic Pop Lo-fi Rock Song Highlights King of Carrot Flowers (Parts 1-3) Oh Comely Two Headed Boy (Part 2) |
Apparently this review is biased. You have been warned. Neutral Milk Hotel are perhaps the most celebrated of all the Elephant 6 groups, and this album is undoubtably the reason why. The album consistently avoids being pigeon-holed, as the whole affair is a strange blend of lo-fi, Beatles-ey pop, psychedelia, folk music and marching band tunes. The music mostly consists of little more that a rhythmically strummed acoustic guitar, but there are frequent interjections by the rest of the band, which even includes a repeatedly used brass/horns section and some organs. Lead singer Jeff Mangum has one of the most intriguing vocal styles in all of rock music. His voice sounds completely raw, and it cracks as he tries desperately to hit the high notes. Every note is drenched in emotion, and only through such unpolished vocals can his lyrics come accross with such authentic feeling. Most of what he sings is impenetrably cryptic, but when Mangum lets his guard down for a moment and the metaphors cease, his lyrics are always brutally honest. The confessional style of singing is one that is overused in rock, but Mangum makes it sound more real that anyone I've heard before. Even the more equivocal lyrics (and there's no shortage of them on Aeroplane) sound strangely appealing. Mangum's use of imagery is incredible, and everything he sings, clear or otherwise, is always full of unconventional beauty. On "Oh Comely," he sadly recalls "Will she remember me / fifty years later? / I wished I could save her / in some sort of time machine." It looks silly, but Mangum makes it sound painfully exquisite. Similarly, no one else could sing "She will feed you tomatoes and radio wires / and retire to sheets safe and clean / but don't hate her / when she gets up to leave" and have the listener on the verge of tears. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea is an album of darkly awkward subject matter. Mangum rarely deviates from the album's core topics of death, sex, lost love, violence and familial dysfunction. The opener, "King of Carrot Flowers (Part 1)", is an amazingly deceptive track. The song requires immediate attention from it's listener, as Mangum hides his tale of an abusive father and alcoholic mother (which may or may not be his own) under a catchy guitar riff and poppy lyrical style. The obscurity begins as the song flows into parts 2 and 3, which are both contained in a single track. Mangum sings passionately of his love of Jesus Christ, then reels off a verse of bizzare lyrics, before finally launching into the song's punchy, lo-fi conclusion. The album continues to trade off between its sing-a-long, pop sensibilities and its enigmatic lyrics, all the way to its heart breaking conclusion of "Two Headed Boy (Part 2)." Few other albums have ever been so intellectually rewarding, while still being so undeniably catchy. Aeroplane's brilliance is only boosted further by it's numerous idiosyncrasies. Mangum continually breaks one of the golden rules of lead singers - don't sing along to the melody during musical interludes - and makes it sound fantastic. The band also make use of an abundance of weird and wonderful instruments, such as the singing saw, bowed banjo, shortwave radio, flugelhorn and even a zanzithophone. One only needs to look around at people's personal responses to Aeroplane to see the effect it has had on many listeners. Many people have made claims of the album genuinely changing their life. With the number of people who are predisposed exclusively to "deep" music, it is exactly this sort of response that is so easy to scoff at. I can't claim to have not been initially sceptical of Aeroplane's ability to touch its listeners, but it took only a few listens to convert me from this point of view. Through all it ambiguity, Aeroplane cries out to be somehow deciphered. Despite continued attempts to unravel meaning from its words, though, the album manages to consistently evade any kind of single interpretation. It's a 40 minute long musical riddle, and an truly compelling one, at that. As you may have noticed, it's also really hard to review without getting caught up in the overuse of buzzwords, not to mention the endless heaping of praise on Mangum, who may well be some sort of God of songwriting. Now, stop pointing that finger at me, quit calling me a wanker, and go listen to In the Aeroplane Over the Sea right now. |