Review Summary: cathartic, one-man mountains of psychedelia
A first impression is a powerful thing. A handful of my favorite albums did very little for me upon my first listen, and if I don’t like something right away, I can be pretty stubborn about giving it a second chance. Oftentimes, I need a second, third, fourth, fifth chance, since love sometimes takes a while to blossom. It’s pretty much the opposite of Thom Yorke’s message that “just ’cause you feel it, doesn’t mean it’s there” — in my case, it’s often there, but I don’t feel it immediately.
Once I do feel it, it usually stays there a while. Prime example: I didn’t feel anything at all upon my first few listens of Youth Lagoon’s sophomore effort, Wondrous Bughouse, but now, not a day goes by without a song from the album getting stuck in my head. I initially rejected the album because it is vastly different from his debut, The Year of Hibernation. The music on Hibernation is entirely hidden behind towers of reverb and incredibly lo-fi recording techniques; each song is short and sweet, and are all built upon the same patterns of rise-and-fall dynamics and song structure. Wondrous Bughouse is a stark contrast, its songs incredibly long and unpredictable and its recording technique vastly enhanced.
I expected Wondrous Bughouse to at least somewhat maintain the format of The Year of Hibernation, but nowhere did I find an intro that gradually ascends into handclaps, oohs and aahs, almost incomprehensible vocals, and commanding but reserved percussion. Instead, I discovered songs five to seven minutes long, each one devoting more time to instrumental interludes rather than the typical song structures explored on Hibernation. The initial shock of this drastic change confused me upon my first few listens; I sought the basic, sweet, cathartic sounds of Youth Lagoon’s debut.
After about five listens, I found that the signature catharsis of Youth Lagoon’s debut had never left; rather, it was just being presented in a different form. Hushed introductions suddenly explode into booming, chaotic psychedelic interludes that are often repetitive, but engagingly so. “Attic Doctor” is introduced with a wicked, MGMT-like, insanely captivating instrumental that quickly leads to vocalist Trevor Powers’ vocals, which only last through the first forty-five seconds. Thereafter, the song is a dizzying two-minute experiment in psychedelic noise, only bringing vocals back for its last forty seconds. “Raspberry Cane” further improves on this exploration: its intro echoes Hibernation‘s efforts, but the song then becomes, for the most part, a sprawling maze of Powers’ guitar and swirling synths. “Dropla” in particular provides an interesting contrast to Hibernation, as it starts loud, finds the entire album’s emotional peak at the middle, and slowly but emotionally decomposes into just a mandolin. “Third Dystopia,” on the other hand, bears the most similarity to Youth Lagoon’s debut, as its center echoes the apex of that album’s penultimate track, “Montana.”
Every song on Wondrous Bughouse displays grand improvement over The Year of Hibernation, but the track “Pelican Man” most blatantly demonstrates just how powerful a songwriter Powers has become. The initial fifty seconds of minimalism explode into a psychedelic outburst not unlike something Tame Impala would write. Much of the remainder of the song continues to explore this motif as the instrumentation grows by the second. It is simultaneously experimental and emotional, its eclectic instrumentation as mystifying as it is addicting, as is the entire album. The expanded palette presented here takes some getting used to, but the wait pays off: though many will be unwilling to give this album the focus it demands, Wondrous Bughouse remains the best album I’ve heard so far this year.
