To twist the words of Sir Chuck of D, Kevin Barnes is a hero to some, but he never meant shit to me. I never set much stock in all that 21st century US indie bullshit, all those bands hanging on the coat tails of Neutral Milk Hotel, singing in weedy, whiny voices about papier maché helicopters and mermaids or whatever. The music always made me feel like I had overdosed on Wham! bars - not as much fun as it sounds, believe me. And now that the Elephant 6 collective’s influence on US indie rock seems to be at an all-time high, with the enforced jollity of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and Tapes ‘N’ Tapes compelling impressionable young people to ejaculate their entire nervous systems with sheer excitement, I care even less.
So how come I’m writing about Of Montreal? The band I had previously ranked alongside Paris Hilton and Coke Zero in terms of their usefulness to mankind. The band whose last album cover - let alone the music - actually made me gag (2005’s The Sunlandic Twins). The band whose name is derived from an ex-girlfriend of songwriter and singer Kevin Barnes, who came from - oh, work it out for yourselves.
Um, I don’t know how to say this, but...Of Montreal. Have made. A record... I like.
Has the world finally gone completely and utterly crazy? Have I? Or has Kevin Barnes?
“I was going through difficult times I guess, in a pretty heavy depression zone. So I really used the music as a sort of therapy, to get myself out of that downward spiral. I wasn’t really thinking so much of making a record for an audience, it was more self-centred; to help me get out of this... darkness I found myself in. The record is pretty much chronological, because I was writing and recording in the moment, almost like a journal of my life then.”
The enduring cliché of the tortured artist, the idea that only those in emotional and psychological turmoil are capable of producing anything approaching ‘real’ art, and the greatest thing these troubled individuals could ever do is splatter their brains all over a canvas for the human race to pick at for eternity. It’s a bunch of crap. I know that. I also know that a desperately unhappy Kevin Barnes has made a record that the blissfully happy Kevin Barnes couldn’t have made in a million years. Hissing Fauna is the sound of panic, loneliness and claustrophobia, the sound of feeling trapped in your own head, unable to relate. It’s also the sound of trying to break the cycle of obsessive morbidity, of trying to communicate, of groping for something that might make you feel normal again. Because, romantic notions be damned, when you’re depressed the one thing you want more than anything in the world is to be normal again, and if you can’t be normal again, perhaps dead will do.
“So much of it was created by my life being split into two directions. My daughter had been born, and a few months after that I had to tour, so that created serious tension between me and my girlfriend. I was trying to balance that with my professional life; the pressure of being a father, just trying to navigate stuff, all these issues were just eroding my mind. I couldn’t deal with anything, because I couldn’t resolve it, so my mind just shut down.
“I didn’t become numb though. I was more acutely aware of everything in a conceptual negative way. Then my girlfriend and I split up and she went back to Norway and took my daughter while I was on tour and I felt emotionally stranded. Anyway we got back together and sorted it out, and I’ve created this new persona to write for, this character called Georgie Fruit. I don’t really know how I came up with this idea, but it’s a black she-male in his forties, he’s really into late seventies soul music and the theatrical glam Prince stuff. It kind of gave me a new perspective and attitude, like it’s not me anymore. I just needed a new persona for everything to become revitalised.”
The resulting album isn’t a Tonight’s The Night/Sister Lovers-style trudge through some dark night of the soul. It’s too anxious to assert its existence to fully succumb to the darkness at its centre. And too busy; but what might seem novelty trappings designed to attract the floating listener - the fizzing synths, the Prince-ly rhythms, the shrinkwrapped harmonies - are as vital to the record as the songs themselves. Sonically, Hissing Fauna doesn’t so much beg your attention as wrestle it to the ground, pin it down with its deceptively wiry arms and plant a big black kiss on its forehead.
It’s delightfully funny in places too. ‘Gronlandic Edit’ relates Kevin’s fruitless search for a suitable belief system: “Oh, the church is full of losers/Psycho and confused,” he observes (correctly). The song abruptly segues into ‘A Sentence Of Sorts In Kongsvinger’ featuring Kevin’s confession that he “spent the winter on the verge of a total breakdown while living in Norway/I felt the darkness of the black metal bands.” Meanwhile, the song is quoting merrily from George McCrae’s ‘Rock Your Baby’ and any listener with a functioning heart is falling hopelessly in love.
That said, many listeners haven’t. In fact, Of Montreal’s increasing sonic vivacity has attracted a fair amount of criticism. Web-vultures bitch about the scarcity of actual band input on Hissing Fauna, decrying it as the product of one man’s hubris. They also complain that the vivid hi-gloss production is evidence of Barnes’ ruthless careerism. It looks like Of Montreal might lose some fans with this record. Fine, I say. Cut loose the dead weight. Then again, it’s not my band. Or my life.
“I realised pretty early on that there’s no way to please everyone. What upsets me though is that people don’t really understand how much heart is put into everything that we do, or most artists on our level in the indie scene. It’s never motivated by commercial desire; it’s just about exploring your creativity and trying to create something exciting.”
Allowing one of your songs to be re-recorded for an Outback Steakhouse TV ad [as Kevin did with ‘Wraith Pinned To The Mist (And Other Games)’ in 2005] could be viewed as selling out...
“Yeah, that was our greatest sin, a colossal error. I can’t even imagine what I was thinking. I think we did it just because it was so absurd. I think I was kind of also duped into it by the ad agency, because they didn’t make it clear it would be so huge. It was on once every hour, between all the football. It definitely has become a bit of a nightmare. I don’t take myself that seriously though, so it’s not going to destroy me. But the concept of that idea, that if you’re a sell out once you’re a sell out forever... I mean, I could say I sold that song, so for that moment, I sold out. But I don’t go into the studio and think ‘God, I really have to make a record that a steakhouse will like’...”
What about the allegations that Hissing Fauna and The Sunlandic Twins are solo albums in all but name?
“Well, the band has gone through different phases, where people are collaborating or contributing musical ideas a lot more. In the very beginning it was just me and my 4-track at my parents’ house, just getting lost in the creative process. For a couple of years people were writing their own basslines, keyboard lines, drums, counter-melodies, stuff like that. But for the last three records, I’ve gone back to the way I used to work really, just myself.
“If you have a lot of ideas and you really want to realise them, it’s difficult to say, ‘Well, I’m not going to put down this counter-melody because I have to wait for Dottie [Alexander] to come and play the keyboard line, or Matt [Dawson] to play the bassline.’ That can be really restricting. I think it’s more important to just keep producing stuff and keep working. Because it’s so much a part of my life and helping me to feel positive about living.”
Um, I don’t know how to say this, but...Of Montreal. Have made. A record... I like.
Has the world finally gone completely and utterly crazy? Have I? Or has Kevin Barnes?
“I was going through difficult times I guess, in a pretty heavy depression zone. So I really used the music as a sort of therapy, to get myself out of that downward spiral. I wasn’t really thinking so much of making a record for an audience, it was more self-centred; to help me get out of this... darkness I found myself in. The record is pretty much chronological, because I was writing and recording in the moment, almost like a journal of my life then.”
The enduring cliché of the tortured artist, the idea that only those in emotional and psychological turmoil are capable of producing anything approaching ‘real’ art, and the greatest thing these troubled individuals could ever do is splatter their brains all over a canvas for the human race to pick at for eternity. It’s a bunch of crap. I know that. I also know that a desperately unhappy Kevin Barnes has made a record that the blissfully happy Kevin Barnes couldn’t have made in a million years. Hissing Fauna is the sound of panic, loneliness and claustrophobia, the sound of feeling trapped in your own head, unable to relate. It’s also the sound of trying to break the cycle of obsessive morbidity, of trying to communicate, of groping for something that might make you feel normal again. Because, romantic notions be damned, when you’re depressed the one thing you want more than anything in the world is to be normal again, and if you can’t be normal again, perhaps dead will do.
“So much of it was created by my life being split into two directions. My daughter had been born, and a few months after that I had to tour, so that created serious tension between me and my girlfriend. I was trying to balance that with my professional life; the pressure of being a father, just trying to navigate stuff, all these issues were just eroding my mind. I couldn’t deal with anything, because I couldn’t resolve it, so my mind just shut down.
“I didn’t become numb though. I was more acutely aware of everything in a conceptual negative way. Then my girlfriend and I split up and she went back to Norway and took my daughter while I was on tour and I felt emotionally stranded. Anyway we got back together and sorted it out, and I’ve created this new persona to write for, this character called Georgie Fruit. I don’t really know how I came up with this idea, but it’s a black she-male in his forties, he’s really into late seventies soul music and the theatrical glam Prince stuff. It kind of gave me a new perspective and attitude, like it’s not me anymore. I just needed a new persona for everything to become revitalised.”
The resulting album isn’t a Tonight’s The Night/Sister Lovers-style trudge through some dark night of the soul. It’s too anxious to assert its existence to fully succumb to the darkness at its centre. And too busy; but what might seem novelty trappings designed to attract the floating listener - the fizzing synths, the Prince-ly rhythms, the shrinkwrapped harmonies - are as vital to the record as the songs themselves. Sonically, Hissing Fauna doesn’t so much beg your attention as wrestle it to the ground, pin it down with its deceptively wiry arms and plant a big black kiss on its forehead.
It’s delightfully funny in places too. ‘Gronlandic Edit’ relates Kevin’s fruitless search for a suitable belief system: “Oh, the church is full of losers/Psycho and confused,” he observes (correctly). The song abruptly segues into ‘A Sentence Of Sorts In Kongsvinger’ featuring Kevin’s confession that he “spent the winter on the verge of a total breakdown while living in Norway/I felt the darkness of the black metal bands.” Meanwhile, the song is quoting merrily from George McCrae’s ‘Rock Your Baby’ and any listener with a functioning heart is falling hopelessly in love.
That said, many listeners haven’t. In fact, Of Montreal’s increasing sonic vivacity has attracted a fair amount of criticism. Web-vultures bitch about the scarcity of actual band input on Hissing Fauna, decrying it as the product of one man’s hubris. They also complain that the vivid hi-gloss production is evidence of Barnes’ ruthless careerism. It looks like Of Montreal might lose some fans with this record. Fine, I say. Cut loose the dead weight. Then again, it’s not my band. Or my life.
“I realised pretty early on that there’s no way to please everyone. What upsets me though is that people don’t really understand how much heart is put into everything that we do, or most artists on our level in the indie scene. It’s never motivated by commercial desire; it’s just about exploring your creativity and trying to create something exciting.”
Allowing one of your songs to be re-recorded for an Outback Steakhouse TV ad [as Kevin did with ‘Wraith Pinned To The Mist (And Other Games)’ in 2005] could be viewed as selling out...
“Yeah, that was our greatest sin, a colossal error. I can’t even imagine what I was thinking. I think we did it just because it was so absurd. I think I was kind of also duped into it by the ad agency, because they didn’t make it clear it would be so huge. It was on once every hour, between all the football. It definitely has become a bit of a nightmare. I don’t take myself that seriously though, so it’s not going to destroy me. But the concept of that idea, that if you’re a sell out once you’re a sell out forever... I mean, I could say I sold that song, so for that moment, I sold out. But I don’t go into the studio and think ‘God, I really have to make a record that a steakhouse will like’...”
What about the allegations that Hissing Fauna and The Sunlandic Twins are solo albums in all but name?
“Well, the band has gone through different phases, where people are collaborating or contributing musical ideas a lot more. In the very beginning it was just me and my 4-track at my parents’ house, just getting lost in the creative process. For a couple of years people were writing their own basslines, keyboard lines, drums, counter-melodies, stuff like that. But for the last three records, I’ve gone back to the way I used to work really, just myself.
“If you have a lot of ideas and you really want to realise them, it’s difficult to say, ‘Well, I’m not going to put down this counter-melody because I have to wait for Dottie [Alexander] to come and play the keyboard line, or Matt [Dawson] to play the bassline.’ That can be really restricting. I think it’s more important to just keep producing stuff and keep working. Because it’s so much a part of my life and helping me to feel positive about living.”
