Monsters of Folk – Monsters of Folk

It may be reductionist, but it’s nevertheless true: Monsters of Folk is indie rock’s Traveling Wilburys. So what if no one in the band is an archetype unto themselves, as Bob Dylan is, or possesses Roy Orbison’s gravitas, or George Harrison’s gifts as a tunesmith? In the niche world of indie music, there aren’t many who can claim superstar status, but Conor Oberst, M. Ward, and My Morning Jacket’s Jim James come close enough that Monsters qualifies, without question, as a bona fide supergroup.

There are other similarities to the Wilburys. They have their own multi-instrumentalist/uber-producer in Mike Mogis, here filling the Jeff Lynne role. Oberst was initially hailed as indie’s Dylan when he burst onto the scene under his Bright Eyes banner, and James himself recently recorded a tribute album to Harrison. In at least one respect, they even do the Wilburys one better: They play all of their own instruments—even the drums!

But the Traveling Wilburys were a rock supergroup. This band is an indie rock supergroup, and that one little word makes all the difference in the world. Because the brothers Wilbury were all rock and roll journeymen, craftsmen who had spent their lives studying (and in some cases inventing) the familiar tropes and idioms of rock music. Their albums were rooted in classic forms. Monsters of Folk come from an entirely different world: They are not craftsmen so much as emulators, and the songs here are carefully assembled from bits of everything that’s trendy in indie right now.

Which is to say: Don’t let the band name fool you. There’s plenty of folk here, but also a jaunty country song (“The Right Place”), a Beach Boys homage (“Whole Lotta Losin’), and even a stab at affected Prince-isms (“Dear God”). There’s a pop-rocker that shreds like hell (“Say Please”), and darkly rustic folk songs that make perfect sense given the scene’s current interest in all things Fleet Foxy.

But though they are very much borne of a particular movement and a specific time and place, opportunists they are not. This is not a collection of Ward songs and Oberst songs and James songs on which the others members just happen to play and sing. In fact, it’s not even a mere synthesis of their styles, though the spirit here is one of collaboration, to be sure. Monsters of Folk is the sound of four talented musicians who not only bring out the best in each other, but actually spur each other into uncharted territory.

Not that the music here isn’t rooted in the minds of these four men—it very much is—but their talents and obsessions manifest themselves in surprising ways here. “The Right Place” glows with a golden hue that recalls some of the vintage AM-aping nuggets of the last My Morning Jacket here, but, within the sympathetic world of Monsters of Folk, James and the gang push the song into more straightforward, country-rock territory than MMJ has ever gone. Likewise, “Baby Boomer” is a flourishing of the communal rock vibe Oberst has been favoring with his Mystic Valley band, but, working with two vocalists who have just as much presence and personality as him, he pushes the singalong into the gloriously and giddily absurd. Only a handful of the album’s fifteen cuts sound like castoffs from the band members’ regular gigs: “Man Named Truth” is very good but very typical Oberst, and “The Sandman, the Brakeman and Me” could have been on Ward’s recent Hold Time.

What this all means is that Monsters of Folk is not just the result of a few famous friends goofing off together, though there is a laid-back vibe to the whole thing that makes it a blast to listen to. But it plays like an actual album made by a real band, a band interested in collectively exploring the outer limits of their music, not just passing the mic around for a sing-along. It’s a more diverse album than anything the members have cut as individuals; it’s more substantive than James’ recent EP, more eclectic than Ward’s Hold Time, more consistent than Oberst’s Outer South.

As fun and as informal as it sounds, it’s also a very deliberately-made record, and nowhere is that more evident than in the songs themselves. This isn’t a collection of leftovers or castaways, but a capitol-A Album with recurring themes and real depth. There’s an undercurrent of spiritual inquiry that begins in the opening track, “Dear God,” which unveils the record’s central conceit: In it, each singer takes a verse and addresses the Divine with expressions of faith or of doubt. It’s not a deep song, but it introduces a plurality of perspectives from three songwriters whose individual interests have all been marked by spiritual awareness, and the rest of the record juggles wildly different worldviews as it toys with ideas of truth and revelation, love and religion. The spirit is one of candor: Of honest inquiry and truthful struggle.

If it’s not exactly a weighty album — “Dear God” throws out the familiar question of human suffering, but the album never really returns to it, simply leaving it as a ponderable point in the air—it is a substantive one in which the songs sound like they’re born out of mutual respect and camaraderie, not crafted as excuses for late-night jamming. Monsters of Folk is an honest-to-goodness debut album from a band that deserves consideration for merits entirely their own—not goodwill earned by the principles in their regular gigs—and that’s perhaps the most significant Traveling Wilburys connection that can be drawn.

Related posts:

1. Bright Eyes & Neva Dinova – One Jug of Wine, Two Vessels (Re-Issue)
2. Joshua James – Build Me This
3. Bright Eyes/Neva Dinova- Poison
4. Wye Oak- Take It In
5. She & Him – Volume Two

Tagged as: Folk, omaha, Pop, Rock

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