As befitting their out-of-step status, alt-J’s career up to now has been one of dichotomy.
For every ‘cool’ accolade (Mercury Prize) there is an equally ‘uncool’ barb (working with Miley Cyrus), and the ubiquity of Left Hand Free on both acclaimed Netflix content and Marvel movies best exemplifies this.
It’s an approach that has served them well over the last decade, and indeed applies to their work itself. Fourth album The Dream covers, in no particular order, the insights of a serial killer, heart-rendering recollections of a life partner and the joys of capitalism. Whatever else you can say about them, predictable alt-J are not.
Opening with the latter, Bane is – as drummer Thom Sonny Green attests – the sonic palate of the album in microcosm. Delicate electric finger-plucked guitar, shimmering vocals, trip-hop…it’s all here. A familiar trope of the band’s, obtuse lyrics as metaphor, is once again prominent amid the thoughtful chaos which is essentially an ode to Coca-Cola.
As righteous music fans we should perhaps balk at this, but ultimately who doesn’t enjoy a glass or two? Singer Joe Newman is well aware of this, as the opening lyrics (‘I sold my soul’) prove. The song itself is a treat, unfurling surprises at every turn which suggest that even the band don’t know where it’s going, but it’s worth following regardless.
Being so familiar with their use of metaphors, Newman’s vocals manage to make everything sound dirty, although U&E, with its lumbering holiday groove, is intimate by design. Seemingly effortless, it’s alt-J by numbers, if such a thing exists, with dense percussion and an uneasy rattle.
The other ‘single’, Hard Drive Gold, is faintly ridiculous (as is also their wont), the squawking delivery of the line ‘gimme that fire’ in particular, but is designed to be so. The ‘don’t be afraid to make money boy’ motif may rankle once again, but they care not a jot.
The Actor finds Newman in full cosplay as, obviously, an actor (‘cocaine…why do I keep returning to you?’) with Hendrix guitar and bulbous bass supporting it. As per the album title, it’s dream-like.
After all the flippancy, alt-J show us their depth on Happier When You’re Gone (‘it’s not easy, homeless when you’re home’), all reflective learning and subtle self-consolation. A beautiful little thing with a repeated title which becomes sadder upon every delivery, the strings support the song without drowning it in melancholy. However, the press release for the album also states it’s an abusive relationship, so perhaps it’s best to judge for yourself.
The centre-piece of the album, Get Better, takes the sadness to almost unbearable places. Achingly beautiful and solely comprising of Newman, acoustic guitar, piano chords and occasional harmonies from keyboardist Gus Unger-Hamilton, it’s an ode to the slow death of a loved one.
With the insights into the details that make up a relationship (‘I still pretend you’re only out of sight in another room smiling at your phone,’), if it wasn’t the song’s capacity to find beauty in grief, it wouldn’t bear a second listen for fear of being crushed under the emotion, as recorded excerpts from a happier time close the song, or the unfounded hope that comes from such a situation (‘get better my darling. I hope you will,’).
The second half fails to hit the same heights, but there is still much to process; through a jaunt across America (titles Chicago and Philadelphia give the game away) we get techno, opera and Arabian soundscapes, while on Delta Newman braves the acapella.
Meanwhile, if one had to design an alt-J song by algorithm (a process the band would surely approve of), it would likely present Walk A Mile; snappy drums, random sequencing, incoherent lyrics all combine. The song is a bit rudderless and drawn out to be essential.
Losing My Mind once again finds them digging into the darkness, this time into the mindset of a serial killer, while the bluesey closing track Powders has the best lyric on the album: ‘Free house – the greatest two words to hear at 16.’
Theirs is a fragile and multi-faceted world, and The Dream fully represents that better than any of their other albums. Equal parts intriguing, beautiful and terrifying, alt-J continue to challenge in their own inimitable fashion, somehow making ecstasy and misery easy bedfellows.
