Psychedelic
and experimental music is notorious for being deliberately difficult. Artists
gladly make things as dense as possible, often solely for the sake of doing so.
Taking the precedent and smashing it to pieces is the ultimate artistic
pursuit, or so some might say. Juniper Douglas, a musical collective based out
of Minneapolis, certainly fall into this category.
They
manage to walk the tightrope of bizarre and tasteful throughout the 63 minutes
of their debut album, Error to Introspection.
With sloppy precision, sounds are splattered on an ethereal canvas of
invitation. Each song on the record acts as a coat of multi-colored fluorescent
paint. There is a techno-like study in layering on Error – each corner can be peeled back to reveal something new,
confounding, and often wonderful.
The
record kicks off with “Promiseland Bakery.” Lowkey drum machines and acoustic
guitars invite the listener to cross the threshold and immediately the overwhelming
scents possess their senses. It is a bit of a beautiful smorgasbord. The song
segues into a jazzy flamenco breakdown and back into an atmospheric piano
segment. The willowy vocals partition the ecstatic flourishes peeking out from
the background. “mush marsh,” the boggiest tune found here, starts with a
bubbly sound that evokes boiling water. This Animal Collective-aping song accelerates
with machine gun strumming, and much like the previous track, dissolves
utterly. It becomes formless and shapeless, like watching dandelion seeds disperse
with the breeze. Thus far, the album has felt almost like a solo affair,
instead of the work of a band.
“fibastimpastastan”
is the album’s highlight, and a total bop. The layered cliff face of vocals
and guitars weathers a typhoon of synthesizers and keyboards. It is a tower of
vibrant strata presented as sound.
Unfortunately,
no one walks the tightrope perfectly on their first try. The subsequent trio of
songs leans heavily into the improvisatory and experimental side of Juniper
Douglas’ sound. “like an umbrella you see in a pot on a windowsill” gives hints
of an icy video game level with stabs of synth and xylophone. The falsetto
vocals take melodrama to comedic heights, only to fade into a keyboard solo. While
the transition is quite clean, the next track – “tea w/t.” – is four minutes of
fizzy noodling. It seems all too possible that it started as an interlude, only
for the band to forget to turn off the mics for another couple minutes. “carrot
eat dog” is essentially the same as the prior track. There is a beautiful, crystalline
segue that unfortunately returns to vague piano soloing, but now with loose
vocals on top. An iambic discontentment enters the scene at the end, indicating
a return to the quality of the first chunk of tracks.
“g”
injects energy with a frenetic drumbeat and more Super Nintendo synthesizers.
Jazz-inspired solos restructure the tune for a gear shift halfway through.
Newly-minted psionic guitar and reverb transcend the vocals. “2 in 1
Conditioned Air” sounds like it is literally simulating a sci-fi air
conditioner. Throbbing drums press on the corners of your ears, singing ricocheting
off of a synth part ripped right from Blade
Runner. After meandering for too long, the drums get a clue and start
propelling the track into something that could be considered a song.
Every
psychedelic album needs to have a nearly-10-minute centerpiece, and “B. George
Keith Beekneeth/Fun Gus” fulfills that role for Error to Introspection. It lives up to all the expectations the
listener would have from such a song. A levee of bass starts to crack and
finally releases a leaf storm of different parts. Everything fluctuates in and
out of each other in the best way possible. The trumpet player is allowed to
exist in their own universe and provide a spattering of color. A handful of the
previous tracks hinted at and likely aspired to be like this tune. What makes
it work is the breathing room it was allotted. It is able to actually sustain
the experimentation to a point where it becomes enjoyable and distinctly engaging.
The world crafted by the song feels natural yet utterly unprecedented.
The
record’s third single, “Gah, My Eyes!”, appears to set a mind-bending precedent
for the last third. A cyclical chain of fuzzy guitars is the first traditional “rock”
lead and indicates what a more traditional Juniper Douglas release would sound
like. Alas, the precedent was a total misdirection. A mess of noodly drums and vocals
tries to anchor “Error,” but fails to go anywhere.
Indulgence
is reinvented with “Introspection.” A wasteland of nonsensical samples – “It
feels good to poop,” “Everyone wants to be boots until they’re boots” – seems to
indicate a string of unfunny in-jokes that snuck onto the record somehow. There’s
a section of agonized screaming, flute, and more. Experimentation and insanity happen
for no reason than just for the fun of it. The myriad of concepts here hint at
a great deal of potentially bizarre and unique ideas, none of which are
explored. Every leftover idea and recorded take was put through a sifter and tacked
onto the album. If anything, I can’t help but express some admiration for the
band having the sheer gumption to place something like “Introspection” on the
album. “Endo Friendo” continues on until the candle of the record is blown out.
Outside
of a few missteps, Error to Introspection
finds Juniper Douglas building a surrealist diorama, only to set it on fire and
gleefully watch it crumble, burning fiercely and crumpling like mythical Styrofoam.
Onlookers can’t help but be transfixed by the oddly comforting yet unreasonably
vivid flames. The band throws everything at the wall and proudly hopes that
nothing sticks. The point isn’t what could have been on the wall, it’s what is
currently on the ground. The Minneapolis scene needs bands with such an
unabashed adoration of experimentation and delightful transcendental weirdness,
especially when they have a knack for melding it with more indie-centric
melodies and ideals.
Error to Introspection is out September 21, 2018 via Subaquatic Records.
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