Long after the enigma of his identity was unravelled, ex-Mint Chicks guitarist Ruban Nielson’s recognisable sound remained. Having crafted an original synthesis of 60s psychedelia, junkshop-funk, and smart, claustrophobic production as besotted with hip-hop as much as garage rock.
But where once was mystery, the trio’s latest finds the ‘mortal’ element overtaking the ‘unknown’ component, with an album that subtly reveals the more human side of its creators.
As its perfunctory title suggests, II picks up from where the nine track, half-hour debut left off; building and expanding on the surreal sonics and clouded aural fug of their sound in expressive new ways.
But where Unknown Mortal Orchestra seemed playful, energised by its chemical excess and choppy grooves, its successor has a darker, wearier tone beginning to blot beneath the surface. Inspired by their gruelling touring schedule and hedonistic lifestyle, these are surreal tales of loneliness and longing.
The opening line of ‘From The Sun’ intones “isolation/ it can put a gun in your hand” while the gnarled, driving guitars of ‘No Need For A Leader’ warns, “something wicked this way comes.”
The flower-power fizz of II‘s predecessor is absent, the trio (Nielson, bassist Jake Portrait and newly recruited drummer Greg Rogove) now leaning harder on their druggy, absorbing grooves.
The seven-minute-long ‘Monki’ is suffocating yet entrancing, its chromatic shifts and glazed croon never rising above the bare essentials. Sounding like its succumbing to the ultimate hangover, while ‘One At A Time’, sees horns entering the acid-fried melange; an attempt to fight the inevitable with wiry, opiate melodies.
It’s not all burnt-out comedown though. ‘So Good At Being In Trouble’ circles on a soulful chorus of blue-eyed beauty, and ‘Swim And Sleep (Like A Shark)’ sounds breezily untroubled, even as its juxtaposed lyrics yearn for the stasis of “the sweet, cold darkness.”
II‘s logic functions, and more often excels, on its contradictions. Sonically likeable yet lyrically, uncomfortably intimate. Queasy melodies that prove ear-naggingly effective, and beneath even its murkiest moments, it remains richly compelling.
The first truly great album of 2013, and two for two in UMO’s own catalogue.
