If you’ve already heard of Menomena, chances are that you’ve heard more about their bizarre method of composition than you have about their music. None of the band’s three members actually compose any of the songs on their albums; instead a program called Deeler, created by frontman Brent Knopf, assembles their songs for them, digesting disparate progressions concocted by the three separately into full-fledged, working songs.
“If we actually had to write songs together, I think we’d kill each other,” Knopf once said in an interview with UK-based website New Music Express. Menomena’s dependence on Deeler makes them not just a band, but also an experiment—the success of their albums might just determine whether or not songwriting itself will soon be obsolete.
So when we listen to “Friend and Foe,” the band’s sophomore effort, we hope to hear stutters and muffled vocals, out-of-place beeps and tamped-down climaxes—tangible proof, in short, that computer language C++ and advanced circuitry can never replace talent. Perhaps “Friend and Foe” is a robot, an aural Frankenstein whose awkward attempts to connect will do little more than annoy. What we actually encounter, though, is a far more complex creature: a strong record whose emotional foundation very nearly dwarfs its incongruities.
These incongruities, however, are apparent from the get-go. Opener “Muscle’n Flo” offers only the barest hints of the album’s later accomplishments, nestling the light pings of a barely-audible piano between monotonous verses and over-exuberant drums that could have been recorded at any decent high school’s Battle of the Bands. The album begins in earnest with “Wet and Rusting” where Knopf abandons his usual atonal mumbling in favor of soft, high vocals that kneel before atmospheric bass. Compounded with a series of campfire guitar strums, the piece could convince even the most chronic bed-wetter that his sleeping bag is safe haven. “Duel” incorporates an organ to create an electric lullaby culled straight from the Sandman’s Songbook; a single listen is enough to divorce you from reality. And if the above three aren’t enough to justify a listen, “Boyskouts Sweetboyskouts,” “Running,” and “The Pelican” build to a climax of such intensity and vigor that only a true believer could respectfully describe them as Biblical. At its best, this is the most eclectic, richly textured music the band has ever released.
Sadly, it is precisely when we are most entranced by “Friend and Foe” that the album falls apart. “Airaid,” while a strong song in its own right, possesses few of its predecessors’ strengths. Knopf tumbles headfirst from the heights he had so effectively scaled, descending into a numbed sulk (“Cover your ears cover your eyes cover your mouth,” he moans). “Weird” recalls the stifled, awkward stabs at humor of “Muscle ‘n Flo,” but lacks the soft bed of piano that tinged earlier tracks with grace. “Evil Bee” and “Ghostship” replace piercing guitar solos with awkward horns and forced handclaps, concluding with the decidedly desolate sound of the whistling wind. By the time we get to the muted final track “West,” the album has already come to a dead stop.
Menomena’s first effort, “I Am The Fun Blame Monster,” proved that the band could create a quality record. “Friend and Foe,” while not quite a victim of the sophomore slump, nevertheless places the band’s worst weaknesses on display. It seems that when Deeler is told to construct any song that differs in mood from a traditional rock epic, the program short-circuits and spits out a tepid parody of light rock. But when every number is in place, Menomena’s unusual composition weaves together something profound.
Rating: 7.3/10
Leave a Reply