Sometimes videos are dull, so finding a screengrab is tricky. Sometimes, however, videos are just up themselves. So, in lieu of anything from this, let’s have another look at that lovely armchair from the Local Natives video. Mmm. Chairalicious…
Edward Okulicz: You know when an overhyped band finally puts out a song that lives up to their reputation? This is like the opposite of that; finally, MGMT have put out a song so absolutely devoid of merit that people will start hating them as much as I do. Half of the instruments being used here have been arranged to sound like flatulence rather than melody, there’s little in the way of tune (so what’s new), the organ is like a toy keyboard doing a Stones pastiche and the last few seconds where it gets all chaotic and noisy honestly made me have homocidal urges. Awful, awful, awful, and without even the minor nagging hooks of their big singles.
Iain Mew: This makes me think of The Coral, once they started wandering further into the offbeat but before losing their way too much. Queasy psychedelia with a well-hidden, but definitely present, garage pop core and blaring harmonies which are particularly effective. It fits a lot in, but only in the last minute does the EVERYTHING LOUD AT ONCE approach of the first album return with a vengeance. Still, a step sideways and forwards.
Ian Mathers: You know, normally I’m sympathetic to a band’s desire not to repeat themselves, especially after a fluke hit. But not only is MGMT a shit band (“Kids” and “Time to Pretend” aside), they’re an annoying one. So if they’re now doing post-Bowie wanks instead of, well, more “Kids,” they can go fuck themselves. Of Montreal called, they want their schtick back.
Matt Cibula: It’s a great song, as copies of the Of Montreal sound go; and, as copies of the Of Montreal sound go, it went. Man, if MGMT keeps coming up with stuff like this I’m going to have to start paying attention to them.
Kat Stevens: What a dreadful mess. It veers between a mixed-bag of 60’s garage sounds (less Phil Spector, more Primal Scream aping the Stones) and a soggy, meandering attempt at psychedelia, like if the The Byrds had grown up in a commune made out of Weetabix on the outskirts of Luton. That shambolic flute break is one of the most half-arsed things I’ve heard this year.
Alex Ostroff: The perpetual omnipresence of “Kids”, “Time to Pretend” and “Electric Feel” on campus for the past two years or so might have been annoying, but at least back then MGMT were good at what they did. Unfortunately, 60s pastiche and spoken-word bridges don’t suit them as well as their last guise.
Martin Skidmore: I guess this is ambitious, in that it seems to change style every few seconds. There are some strong and dramatic moments, when it leaps into a new style, as they do most of them with some skill, but the end result doesn’t come together at all to me, and I kept thinking of Frank Zappa, which is not something I want to be reminded of, so it ended up annoying me.
Doug Robertson: It’s messy, and could do with a bit of trimming, but it more than works as a single. It may be difficult to love, but if this really is what they consider to be leftfield and boundary pushing then they really need to expand either their horizons or their record collections.
Chuck Eddy: That Middle Eastern morsel at the start is cool, and there are vaguely diverting moments where the vocals mass together. Otherwise, the only thing this seems to be good for is trying to figure out which is more useless – the singing or the music.
Alfred Soto: After this made an admittedly dazzling first impression, I wondered what now. They’re good at “psychedelia,” sudden time signature changes, and vocals that go bump in the night. Their next task is to make their sounds cohere.
John Seroff: Sloppy, boneless, incoherent psych-twaddle that rambles in search of a theme or a melody or a hook or anything but ultimately gives up in screaming frustration. Me too.
Michaelangelo Matos: Why no, I’ve never taken the acid test. What do you win if you pass? What do you mean you don’t win anything? What do you mean, far out–like it’s an hour away or something? Where did you get that weird patterned shirt and those velvet pants? Who the hell wears velvet pants? You know, I am having a good time, actually. Uh, I think I need to lay down now.