My Favorite Frother

I pondered for a while on what my first few posts should be about… The state of the music industry? No, too depressing (and generally controversial). A top ten rundown? No, too broad, and besides, MTV and VH1 have had years of those. Eventually, I turned to my trusty iPod, and started browsing. Cha-ching: paydirt – my favorite frother, Kevin Barnes, would make a marvelous entry to the commentary of Sound & Tonic!

Now let me first define “frother” because, well… It isn’t a real word, but you’ll see it here fairly often. I first stumbed across the term in a BBC News article, and while the context was less than memorable the concept I found to be most appealing. Here in the States we throw such terms as “crazy” or “insane” around a lot, but have very few words to explain the various states of craziness (“fucking nuts” and “batshit insane” notwithstanding). “Frother” made an impression because its usage drew up the perfect mental image of a truly unstable person who through general harmlessness managed to also become endearing.

A definition that could not fit anybody better than Kevin Barnes, the very productive delusion behind Of Montreal.

How did I uncover this marvelous oddity, you may ask?

As has historically been the case, it was not I, but Leslie who tracked down the band and passed the information along. “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse” read the song name. “Curious” I said to myself as the song started playing on the mix CD (including such names as Carbon Leaf and The Faint). How she found the song, I never bothered asking, but the product of the discovery involved sitting in my dark basement apartment staring into the computer monitor while Kevin proceeded to snipe off my synapses. The resulting numb feeling that spread down my body from the damaged part of my cerebral cortex was relaxing, but didn’t exactly help to disseminate the paradox I had just heard.

Thank the maker Les didn’t produce the entire Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? album at that time because it would have assuredly ended in a quick coma.

I believe it was some dark wave electronica that nudged me back towards consciousness, but due to some undefined allure I proceeded to listen to “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse” four or five more times. Each play brought with it an ounce of immunity and a deep desire to hear more.

Within a few days I had acquired the album, and after the first play-through I was hooked.

Of Montreal is foremost what I would call experimental pop. The songs are a mélange of luring bass, chirping synths and erratic vocals – the lyrics are often nonsensical and where they are comprehensible stray towards the dark and implicative. The overall mood of the album is as close akin to a hallucinatory breakdown as I can imagine, and yet it isn’t an ongoing depression. The tunes are friendly if not catchy (one can’t exactly hum an Of Montreal tune very well), and the overarching feeling is one of disassociation with a painful past while embracing the giddy aftermath.

You know – that point in time where your brain starts drowning you in endorphins to help stave off some of the psychological trauma you’ve just suffered.

What to take away…

Of Montreal is something you have to listen to in order to even begin to understand. Words simply fail at describing the sound (and scene) because so much of it is purely emotional. You must like electronic fused pop, and an appreciation for glam musicians wouldn’t hurt. I saw Kevin in concert in Cleveland, and the crowd was a broadly eclectic mix so almost anybody could conceivably find some manner of appreciation for what he has to offer…

What should you expect?

Think bizarre – that’s what makes him the epitome of frother. If he was channeling an ADHD eight-year-old he couldn’t be more random, and it’s his randomness and raw emotions that give Kevin and the rest of Of Montreal their unique and endearing quality.

What drink would he pair with?

No question it would be old fashioned Absinthe with perhaps twice the sugar. Combine with a surrealist art exhibit and you’re nearly there.

Favorite song?

Suffer for Fashion. Despite the creepy-ass child noise at the beginning, this song sums up the style and sets the tone for the rest of the album.