Of Montreal - False Priest

Driven by frontman Kevin Barnes, Of Montreal are one of the most accomplished bands of their time. Boasting a massive discography, years of touring and at least seven former members (leaving a solid five, at least for the time being), 'False Priest' marks the tenth album from the Athens, Georgia hipsters. With an ever evolving sound, this latest record moves away from the lo-fi vibe created by MIDI instruments and adopts a more established layering of real instrumentation. Calling upon two established R&B stars to lend their unique sound, 'False Priest' is not dissimilar from previous offering, yet at the same time, is captivating in its own, distinct way. What we’re trying to say, in this very roundabout way, is that it’s good.

'I Feel Ya Strutter', the first track on this thirteen song effort, is catchy with a distinct jazz vibe – hooky in all the right places. The pace slows a little for 'Our Riotous Defects', but only for a while, just long enough to catch your breath, before picking up for a layered instrumental, accompanied by spoken word relaying matters of the heart. Janelle Monae lends her twinkly vocals to this one, no doubt repaying Barnes for his contribution to her album. There is a distinct ‘romantic/sexual’ focus throughout most of the tracks, highlighted nicely on 'Sex Karma': "Ain’t nobody do me better, when you hit me I’m a cloud, baby, I’m a cloud." Pulling in a rather delightful guest vocalist, Solange Knowles (yep, as in, BEYONCE’s sister), the female vocal harmonies are sweet and lilting, taking the edge off the raw and blunt lyrics. Also, Of Montreal and a Knowles sister, did anyone see that coming?! A little simpler, instrumentation wise, is the refreshing 'Famine Affair'. Stripped of the tricks and hooks of neighbouring tracks, this one has a less produced, ‘raw’ feel, exposing revealing, heartfelt lyrics such as, "you marginalise me, you sabotage me…you even tried to make me ugly so you could have a reason to leave." Deep. Other standout tracks include 'Enemy Gene', with its futuristic, dreamy softness and 'Coquet Coquette' which relies on heavy drums, making for a deeper, grittier sound.

If you’re a hardened Of Montreal fan, you will not lose interest with this latest offering. If you are newer to the game, you will not look back (aside from tearing apart their back catalogue) once 'False Priest' pulls you in. Perhaps more relatable than their past efforts, we think this album will be a certified Autumn fave.

Röyksopp - Senior

Designed as an instrumental companion piece to 'Junior', Röyksopp's rigorously upbeat 2009 record, 'Senior' finds the Norwegian duo unwinding a bit with pensive, elegant melodies and ominous beats that provide a nice come-down after the decadent high that their last album provided. But this album can leave you hungover just as easily, it just brings you to a party in the grimier part of the city and leaves you to navigate your own way home. Gone are the glitzy guest-vocalists and the driving, uptempo pulse of 'Junior', replaced instead by darker, more methodical grooves that are expansive and absorbing, crafting a moody ambiance filled with reflection and sophistication. It's a bit harder to find something tangible to grasp on to while listening to Senior, but perhaps the point is to just let yourself drift away along with the music, letting Röyksopp's hypnotic strains dissolve any concerns while easing your worried mind, as you come away renewed when the album draws to a close.

'Senior' is a highly cohesive piece, with each track adding to the soothing, transformative quality of the album, whether it's the unhurried introduction of '...And The Forest Began To Sing,' or the tranquil coda of 'A Long, Long Way,' each song clearly has a vital place within the sprawling scope of the record. The fun truly starts with 'Tricky Two,' an exuberant, entrancing piece that fully ignites the stylish spirit of the album. The downbeat rhythm of 'Alcoholic' is kicked-off with the sound of a can opening, a sure sign that while Röyksopp is clearly creating impeccable music here, they aren't taking themselves that seriously. There is levity found throughout this record, it is just integrated seamlessly within its more melancholic moments, generating both a somber and euphoric atmosphere that permeates the entire work.

'Senior Living' perhaps pokes fun at the relaxed pace of both the song and the album, while 'The Drug' is an airy, fluid track that is as tranquilizing as its name suggests, even throwing in some familiar video game sound effects for the hazy couch-bound kids to latch on to. It seems like any modern song with 'The Fear' worked into the title ends up being a smash (Pulp, Doves, Lily Allen), and that is certainly the case here, as Röyksopp's smooth, moody take on paranoia forms the stirring highlight of the album's mellow second half. Having 'The Fear' follow so closely after 'The Drug' is also a cheeky move by the band, suggesting that the exploratory journey didn't take the user where they particularly wanted to go, so they would be best served to call it a night in order to recover from what ails them.

The song titles continually provide us with unmistakable clues to the hidden narrative layered within the wordless music, so the album appropriately ends with the safe sounds of 'Coming Home' and 'A Long, Long Way,' which coaxes the listener back to solid ground after the mesmerizing sonic odyssey the duo set us on earlier. It's a fitting close to an album that is at once both an introspective journey and a measured discovery, suggesting that we find out more about ourselves through losing our way than by sticking with the most traveled path, which is exactly what Röyksopp have done throughout their distinguished career. And that continues to make all the difference.

Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. - Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly.

It's a dangerous game to play, to fuse a mass of styles together in one album, in the manner in which Sam Duckworth and his band of merry men attempt on this, their third album. Where the intention might have been to create something wonderfully eclectic, seamlessly held together by Sam's distinct vocals, the result is a bit of a mess, the attempt to fuse genre after genre after genre rapidly wearing on the listener.

Where the album works is in the stripped down acoustic numbers, like opener 'Hand Me Downs', which is a gem of a track, and later on in the album, 'The Plot'. But in the interim, we have to suffer 'Collapsing Cities', with it's horn section and drum machine, which comes across as fairly contrived. 'Night Life' sounds like it's a knowing wink and a croon away from being on a Divine Comedy album, and lacking Neil Hannon's charm, falls flat, and 'All Of This Is Yours', with guest vocalist Baaba Maal is a turgid attempt at world music fused with electronica, accompanied by the same riff on a guitar over and over.

It's just a bit tiring.

Moreover, the majority of tracks appear to have been littered with an ill-fitting and ill-conceived drum 'n' bass-esque drum machine, leaving us with an album sounding so dated it is hard to believe that it's not four or five years old.

Whilst there is a sense of an artist moving forward and clearly, that's to be applauded, the lack of cohesion and the over-production evokes the sensation that something has been lost in the studio. It's an album full of ideas, but ideas that have been given such a sheen and polish that they've lost any charm or originality they may have possessed in the first instance. It's not so much a school report reading 'must try harder' that we're left mulling over, but rather one asking Duckworth to instead, try a little less.

Album: The Charlatans - Who We Touch

It does feel that The Charlatans have lost their way of late - either they are making music they truly love, or they are just going through the motions and shifting their sound to fit with a scene. From baggy kings to Britpop legends, they are no strangers to re-invention, and 'Who We Touch' sounds more like a near metamorphosis than slight flirting with a new sound.

To shake things up, Tim Burgess strives and occasionally struggles to replace his nasal monotone with actual singing. Another Charlatans trademark, the swirly organ is fortunately still there, but the accompanying instruments ape a hodgepodge of contemporary acts. Exhibit A: 'Love Is Ending', without a doubt the strongest offering here, sounds like a Kaiser Chief’s B-Side. Think 'Ruby' meets the band's own 'Love Is The Key'. Exhibit B: I could swear 'Smash The System' is actually an Ian Brown cover - you can feel yourself singing the chorus before it even happens.

Halfway through the album, 'Sincerity' rears its ugly head. An unlikely and unlikable mixture of both the lyrical skill of a primary school class and an out of place, shouty “Hey! Hey! Hey!” chorus, it’s akin to something aging rock Grandads U2 might have a go at to remain trendy and down with the kids. Finally, 'Trust In Desire' is a nod to an inspirational Coldplay-esque ballad and is, in all honesty, slightly embarrassing. This more or less sums up the majority: an album that you would only feel comfortable listening to in your own company, fumbling to turn it off when someone walks into the room for fear of them asking “who the hell is that?!”

It's by no means terrible; in parts, it’s a relatively decent listen, only to be ruined by sections that are like your embarrassing Uncle’s pub band: it's like a desperate attempt to try and claw themselves away from irrelevancy.