Where such a statement may once have seemed dubious ever to be uttered, Congratulations are indeed in order here, for pure reinvention alone. Last year, Faris Badwan’s The Horrors demonstrated the emblematic capacities of reinvention, blacking over all previous endeavours as they once did to the palms of The Fratellis and although MGMT are still the same screwball pioneers they’ve proclaimed to be ever since 2005’s Time To Pretend EP, this, their second long player following their metamorphosis from college Indie Rokers Management to bona fide groove gargantuans MGMT, is as alternatively enlightening as an evening shopping for blood with Patrick Wolf, Bill Murray, Jodie Harsh and David Lynch. Following the premature leak of the record and subsequent sacrifice of Flash Delirium as a free download from the band’s official website, the subdued subtlety of the lethargic track, fusing together Jethro Tull flutes and Kinks harmonies, wouldn’t alight the imagination of many psychedelia junkies, boasting a somewhat muted slew of Hammond organs sounds, a bit like a broken kaleidoscopic refracting shadows. Then, quite unexpectedly, amidst a rising guitar scale not too dissimilar from nigh on every Maxïmo Park intro VanWyngarden and Goldwasser rectify absolutely everything, as the Victorian harpsichords of It’s Working swirl vehemently amidst flourishing gardens of fruitful vibrancies. Song For Dan Treacy, a quite flattering ode to the scatty dementia of the Television Personalities front man, writhes about like a Libertine trapped within the scribblings of Oscar Wilde, were his mind infested by the beaming grins of LSD tabs in place of Absinthe. Skipping forward a few pages in an era-spanning encyclopaedia, Someone’s Missing draws from the athletically operatic falsetto of Wacko’s The Jackson 5, whilst I Found A Whistle exposes a premonitory perception of Syd Barrett perfecting the idealistic pop blueprint he may have realised, had he not tragically secluded himself like a quite beautiful snail into his damp shell of insecurities. Siberian Breaks, with its Lighthouse Family synthetic strings, sprawls out over twelve minutes, accelerating and decelerating like Of Moons, Birds & Monsters before it, is the closest the band have ever been aligned to the Vein of Stars cast by Wayne Coyne’s Flaming Lips, whilst Brian Eno drifts back into the frantic delirium for which the duo have garnered a household infamy. With Gaga’s Telephone ringing supreme at the summit of the UK singles chart and the video clocking up a record-obliterating billion-plus views, Stefania Germanotta’s dreams can’t be much more haunted than Lady Dada’s Nightmare, an eerie instrumental that slithers ominously across a veritable broadsheet of emotions, calling at power ballad drums clatters, before terminating at the discordant synths that reverberate around despondent howls at the track’s climax. Congratulation is the celebratory send-off to an experimental endeavour to dispel their misconception as a flimsy psych-pop act, and as euphoric zither twangs soothe ethereally, it’s no real wonder Kids has been sent to its room. God only knows if they’re still pretending, but they’ve surely stated their case as quintessential artists of this coming decade. Shame Plastic Beach already pipped them to LP of these twelve months that we’ve just been sucked headlong into...
