Last month, an impassioned Animal Collective fan hacked into band member Brian “Geologist” Weitz’s e-mail account and, posing as Geologist, sent out a message pleading for fans to leak “Merriweather Post Pavilion” ““ less than a month before its vinyl and digital release date. A ridiculous move, to be sure, and yet it is a fitting example of the combined audacity, technical ingenuity and assumed naivete central to Animal Collective’s appeal on its impressive eight-album run this decade.
When “Merriweather” finally leaked ““ on Christmas Day, no less ““ it was easy to interpret the album as a gift to the idolatrous fans who have helped raise the AC’s profile to stalwart outre visionaries and mounted the hype for “Merriweather” to a fever pitch.
This type of fanatical obsession should be peculiar to a band that nary five years ago was specializing in campfire songs. But, through a steady of albums and EPs over the course of the decade, Animal Collective has seen its fan base swell to the point where these misguided displays of devotion are commonplace prior to an album’s release.
For a band that has maintained its fan base’s intense loyalty and a considerable influence across the indie-rock landscape, Animal Collective refuses to stand still or be pegged to any aesthetic movement.
The droning woodland folk created through hypnotically repetitious acoustic guitars of AC’s early albums gave way to the more crystalline indie-rock of 2005’s “Feels,” which was abandoned for the embrace of samples, synths, and electronic loops and textures on 2007’s “Strawberry Jam.”
“Merriweather” continues with the loop-based electronics of “Strawberry Jam,” but the new weapon added to the band’s sonic artillery on “Merriweather” is booming low-ends. The fact that the bass kicks harder on this album than few others in recent memory is testament to their growth as a band and is all the more remarkable considering that not long ago, its experiments in percussion seemed confined to dorm-room drum circles.
As Animal Collective’s sonic experiments have become more formal and sophisticated, songwriters Noah “Panda Bear” Lennox and David “Avey Tare” Porter developed a counter-narrative with their songwriting, each album moving closer to traditional pop song craft.
“Merriweather” is their most accessible album yet. While some are likely to bemoan the lack of hysterically yelped vocals and slow-burning, repetitive 12-minute jams on this album ““ certain songs even have actual choruses and bridges ““ “Merriweather” should inflate the band’s fan base even further, if not provide the band’s breakthrough to mainstream consciousness.
Oddly, there are even moments on “Merriweather” where the electronics are taut and refined and the tribal drums kick with enough clarity that are vaguely reminiscent of Kanye West’s “808s & Heartbreak.”
“In the Flowers” sets the stage for the album with a quiet build of horror-film-esque arpeggios and undulating background noises, until the thunderous stomp of a floor tom, bass grumbles and a carnival organ upstage the whole song halfway through.
The album segues into the entrancing “My Girls,” Panda Bear’s shimmering ode to a life of bucolic simplicity. In complex, circuitous harmony, Panda Bear repeats the refrain “I don’t mean to seem like I care about material things like a social status / I just want four walls and adobe slabs for my girls,” while the rhythm bops around playfully enough to make asceticism sound like a total joy.
The single-ready “Summertime Clothes” also manages to make the seemingly unpleasant sound like a moment ripe with opportunity.
Amid swirling electronics, Avey Tare depicts his insomnia as a chance for nocturnal romantic escapades on the New York streets. And on “Bluish,” Avey Tare, continuing his tradition of associating romantic affection with a color, manages to create the band’s own version of a ’70s AM love song with a gently pulsating rhythm and light piano flourishes.
Throughout “Merriweather,” Animal Collective vacillates between expanding its growing pop sensibilities and indulging in the psychedelic freak-out moments it explores on the second half of “In the Flowers.” It isn’t until the album’s close that the band welds these impulses perfectly, on the infectious “Brother Sport.”
After the loss of their father, Panda Bear encourages his younger brother to “open up your throat” and “give it a real shout out,” while the melody gleams and rhythm becomes improbably joyous.
The song’s erupting thrill eventually topples over, and on the breakdown, Avey Tare lets out a series of “Whoo!”s, showing the titular brother the cathartic glee of letting emotion pour out.
When the track builds back up and effervescent rush established again, it’s easy to see why Animal Collective inspires such dedicated fandom.
One can only hope that some of their fans will hear “Brother Sport” as encouragement to stop using their ingenuity to scam for advanced album leak and start trying to make music this beatific.
E-mail Rinehart at rrinehart@media.ucla.edu.