New Zealand outfit Unknown Mortal Orchestra return to the fray with their first album in three years – however, where the act hail from is becoming less and less relevant.
Their fourth album, Sex & Food, was influenced by and recorded in a variety of different globe-spanning locations including Reykjavik, Mexico City, Seoul and Portland, and the diversity is clearly apparent in the music.
At any given point, psychedelic disco, razor-sharp guitars and funky drum machines are all competing for the listener’s attention. As with their first three albums (the self-titled debut, II and Multi-Love), there is a lot going on. In fact, on first listen it’s actually quite difficult to wade through everything, but given time an appreciation of the variation and effort that has gone in to the record becomes inescapable.
Unknown Mortal Orchestra have always had the ability to sound both modern (Tame Impala comparisons are valid) and retro (the Pretty Things loom large), but no more so than here. The Internet Of Love (That Way) belongs in a soul café from days of yonder, whereas first single, the mighty American Guilt, has an almost hip-hop bpm with a great use of snares.
The blaxploitation keys and wah-wah guitar make Major League Chemicals seem like a lost classic, with all instruments taking a turn to be most prominent, while Everyone Acts Crazy Nowadays has a chorus that demands attention. It’s disco at its purest and finest.
UMO’s previous album was more synth and percussion led, but this album is primarily a return to guitars, albeit being utilised more experimentally. This Doomsday in particular could sit quite comfortably on the first two albums, stripping things back to just voice, guitar and a drum machine which is so low in the mix its only purpose is to keep the song tickling along.
The theme of the album is keyed in with the title; the two greatest pleasures in life, and the focus is generally positive in these depressing times. But to accentuate the positive, one must at least acknowledge the negative, and the whiff of modern day paranoia creeps into the lyrics; the chorus of Ministry Of Alienation is built around the refrain, “can’t escape the 20th century”. Generally speaking though, with such lush production the lyrics often take a back seat.
Either through various effects added to the vocals, or through Ruban Nielson’s range, his voice doesn’t alternate much and it can be quite hard to make the lyrics out, but the emotion is always apparent and they perfectly fit the vibe of their accompanying song. The standout track is Hunnybee, named after Nielson’s daughter, which is glorious funky pop that shows Bruno Mars how it’s really done.
The song titles alone make this an album worth investigating. As well as all of the above, if songs entitled Chronos Feasts On His Children and A God Called Hubris aren’t worth your time then nothing is.
Fortunately it is time well spent, and more than once at that.