I won’t pretend that I’m capable of articulating my thoughts on Merriweather Post Pavlion more eloquently than Alfred Soto: “The obscurity of the lyrics doesn’t jive with the moves towards greater openness and focus in the music and singing. Something is being signified, but what? The words half-articulate a joy the band hasn’t deeply considered; marriage is a state, the band argues, that reduces late twentysomethings into apostles blessed with Pentecostal fire, without the attendant clarity of expression. It’s like holy love turned its supplicants into graceless fools. If lyrics like “I’m really lost in your curls” sung by a twentysomething male is your idea of an endearment, have at it. Plenty of eighteen-year-olds are happily married. ”
I’m certainly not immune to the record’s charms. “My Girls” and “Summertime Clothes” are worthy of their advance billing–while “Bluish,” “Brother Sport,” and “In the Flowers” all have their merits. If you enjoyed the record (and you’re reading a blog, so the answer is probably “yes,”) no panegyric came more poignant than Mike Powell’s Village Voice review But even to an ardent 808s & Heartbreak advocate, the lyrics felt particularly lacking–particularly for such such an “Important” band.” My piece for the Weekly attempts to parse the semantic gibberish. It involves Macauley Culkin and Anna Chlumsky’s My Girl, a Ponzi scheme involving Geologist, and Poor Richard’s Almanac. The usual.
LA Weekly: Parsing the Mysterious Lyrical Challenges of The Animal Collective
Download:
MP3: Animal Collective-“Summertime Clothes”
