Unknown Mortal Orchestra – Sex and Food (2018)

Unknown Mortal Orchestra – Sex and Food

In pop culture, time is usually boiled down into specific decade increments. Everyone can recall what the 70’s 80’s and 90’s were like even if they weren't alive then. But the 2000’s have been different. The first few years of the new millennium easily lent themselves more to the 90’s than to the late aughts and early 2010’s, and similarly, 2016 ushered in a new era of American society and culture. In this new world many artists have been forced to either intentionally or unintentionally capture that familiar aura –the exacerbated and tedious anxiety that binds each day.

Ruban and Kody Nielson have been playing and recording music together since 2001, releasing several albums under The Mint Chicks and Unknown Mortal Orchestra. Sex and Food their newest album, is very much of its time. It is cold, confusing and surprising, an album that stands alone in relation to UMO’s discography. The band has grown up somewhat since their first self-titled release on Fat Possum In 2011, contributing their breakout 2013’s II and it’s follow-up,  2015’s Multi-Love. That album being a more disco tinged rave up allowing for the inevitable melancholy and personal come-down in 2018. The joyousness of 2015 being replaced with the wandering confusion of the years that followed.

The change in tone does not however change the overall message; UMO has never been a revelatory group, never providing an experimental inclination or even a left turn. The band was always best suited for smoking too much on a Sunday or driving around with a bunch of people who have different music tastes. But UMO has always been likable, which makes Sex and Food so frustrating. It’s not that the music is bad. It’s just boring. One might be forgiven to think that Ruban Nielson was simply attempting to provide an answer to the question “What if UMO wasn’t catchy?” or “What if I was more pretentious? Just enough to weed out the casual listeners.”

This album more than anything else plays it safe. Every time the songs wind into pop realm the music turns away, as if afraid to challenge Multi-Love’s aesetic, or to seem jubilant in the face of the Trump era. This leaves us with music that is pleasant enough in the background but not something that can really be rewarded by active listening. Mood music in the worst possible sense, some silly lyrics here and there that take away from the seriousness of the portentous ones and musical ideas that are so stoic and stressful they take away from the exciting parts. The problem is these songs haven’t received enough trial, they are little tunes and hooks that are begging to come out and be heard as the compositions they know they could be. But maybe this is just how Ruban’s music fits into the modern landscape, not with an anthemic revolution but with a scattered whimper.

A God Called Hubris:  Intros fall into two categories. Songs you wish were longer and songs you wish were skipped, but they are almost always superfluous. This one falls firmly in the unnecessary category. It is indistinct from Major League Chemicals, which starts even stronger with its flexing bouncy guitar and too short to provide any extended provocation.

Major League Chemicals: This opening riff is interesting enough and this song has some energy. But like any good first track, it serves as a mission statement for what this album will sound like. Muddled, confusing, indistinct and eventually a bit annoying.

Ministry of Alienation:  Even though UMO is not known for their lyrics “No one will fuck the ugly robot”.  Is pretty bad.  Runner-up being : “handing in my resignation at the ministry of alienation.”  It doesn’t help that Nielson delivers these lines with less enthusiasm than my review.  The music itself is a dreamy, minimalist lament, but as the song slowly builds around the chorus it collapses back into whispered vocals. Maybe the point is to make you feel unsatisfied, just like the robot

Hunnybee: The lone bust out. This catchy, jazz-tinged love song beckons for better bedfellows. Hunnybee is well produced and seems to be coming from a different place entirely. One where UMO are critical darlings playing their first show at New York’s hottest club,the guitar solo winding into a ten minute fantasy trip. This is the singular track that feels built upon what UMO had delivered with Multi-Love

Chronos Feasts on His Children:  If you want ear catching lyrics to stick, you have to work on your enunciation, or at least your singing. Nether the less, as a quick palate cleanser on this album, this is acceptable.

American Guilt: Not the wakeup call you were hoping for but at least we get some variety. Ruban turns up the distortion and chugs through, trying to force a riff, while the hook eludes him once again. The lyrics are as political as UMO gets, framing America as a place that’s full of distrust and Nazi’s, Viva la Mexico, he concludes. Some ideas could easily be fleshed out if Ruban skipped a repeating “No-oh no” bridge.

The Internet of Love (That Way):  Like Hunnybee, Ruban has some real emotion in his voice. While simple, it does at least avoid mentioning robots and father time. The piano flourishes and the bendy bass help keep the song moving even if it is about a minute overkill.

Everyone Acts Crazy Nowadays:  Unfortunately, this never gets off the ground. The first verse and the extended bridge gradually escalate the tension and create a busting catchiness that could swing into a huge disco prodding hook. Instead, this chorus is ultimately tedious and the verses de-escalate the tune to the point the listener just feels agitated instead of riled up.

This Doomsday: More mumbling about the choice between hooks and being unappealing. Ruban should not have to hear it from God to know that there’s a difference between avoiding hooks and being boring, he used to know better.

How Many Zeros:  What could be the funky B-side to Hunnybee, finds itself meandering through the same eye gorging drum beat. This song could have been great but any mention of having the top down in a song is lazy

Not in Love We’re Just High: A similar issue creeps up. A decent vocal melody is accompanied by a complete lack of music, save for a swinging synthesizer thats eventually joined by an obnoxious  drum machine. Once the whole band comes in, 30 seconds from the close. It’s too little and too late.

If You’re Going to Break Yourself:  A fitting ending to this album A decent if unfulfilling chorus is surrounded by dirge. Its hard to be sure when the album is really over or for how long you've been asleep. Also this should be a two minute song. Tops.

~6.0