The first mellowing swell of II, the sequel to Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s 2011 eponymous debut, brings a vivid feeling of calm. For guitarist Ruban Nielson and his group of Portland- and New Zealand-based psychedelic lo-fi rockers, that ease indicates a newfound balance and charisma that move the band away from gimmicky trademarks and headfirst toward well-crafted songs and understated beauty.
As the album’s title suggests, this release is a true sequel. As with all good sequels, stylistic and thematic similarities abound, though thankfully without any default to redundancy. Although the formula here remains the same, with snappy funk-rock drum grooves moving hand-in-hand with remarkably tuneful bass lines, Unknown Mortal Orchestra puts these elements to new, more mature ends. Rather than letting the talented rhythm section act as a mere frame for Nielson’s cut-through guitar leads, the band focuses on one thing: making some extraordinarily catchy, laid-back psych-pop.
Indeed, the first thing you might notice upon listening is that the guitar tracks on this album are much more subdued than those on Unknown’s first release. Though the album still features songs like “Swim Like a Shark,” a tune that capitalizes on Nielson’s signature long, effect-heavy guitar lines, the man behind it all seems to realize that, although his flashiness might draw people in, it’s the depth of his chordal voicing and thoughtful, in-control presence that keep fans coming back for more. As a result, the guitarist spends more time delicately picking out complex arpeggios and folksy jangles than searing through baroque-influenced lead parts.
UMO’s fans will welcome this shift as a definite step in the right direction, especially because it doesn’t come at the price of the band’s catchy vocals and vintage swagger. In fact, “Faded in the Morning,” the album’s penultimate track, just doesn’t sound right without a stoned 70s-era teenager in the room shouting, “Ain’t these guys just the real digs, man?” Many of these songs seem like they could have been released in that decade if not for the precision with which their nostalgic waves have been executed. One can sense among the release’s layers of stone a solid restraint imposed by the band’s distinctively 21st-century self-consciousness. These guys might be playing garage-tinged music, but they know their tunes have a life beyond the garage door; soulful vocal inflections and extended grooves bring the album to life, not just as an artistic statement, but as a pleasurable experience to which listeners will be able to return again and again.
This is not to say that there were no risks taken. “Monki,” a love song written either to a girl or a substance, opens with 50 seconds of slow-burning, effect-heavy, psychedelic noodling. Most comparable to the intro of “Nerve Damage” off the band’s first album, it is less immediately striking but perhaps more intriguing because of it. And on the one-minute long “Dawn,” rounded synthesizers swirl in a meterless mist of bliss. Certainly, this is not a band that is scared of indulging their lysergic inclinations. Whether these more experimental risks are successful is a question that will draw varied responses depending on what a listener is looking to find in this release. For fans who delighted in the first album’s straight-shooting, anti-romantic anthem “How Can U Luv Me,” such thoughtful moments might seem contrived or overdone. But for lovers of experimentation within a pop sensibility, these meanderings will be entirely welcome.
Aside from “Secret Xtians,” a blatant and unfortunately not-so-nuanced critique of religious hypocrites, there are no wholly unwanted tracks on this album, with each one contributing another facet to the Orchestra’s budding sound. With both fun-filled hard rock riffage and laid-back, playful sexiness, II is a softer, more mature take on the aesthetic with which the band began. This time around, UMO makes feelings of loneliness and abandon obvious and poignant without removing any of the funky jubilance that made them such an enthralling act to begin with.
