[rating=7.00]
The story goes that in setting out to record the follow up to Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s masterful 2015 record, Multi-Love, the band’s mastermind Ruban Nielson opted to shake up his routine. In a quest for further inspiration, Nielson and the band ventured outside his home studio to a host of other locations around the world, primarily in Hanoi, where Nielson hoped to open himself up more to collaboration and also to re-evaluate the anxieties that have come to plague the American discourse. The idea of a rock band using new surroundings and political tumult to venture beyond their comfort zone is hardly a new one, but for a producer whose sound has been so insular and singular as Nielson’s it raises an eyebrow. As it turns out, Nielson never ended up venturing all that far, and his very-much-intact sonic vision becomes both the blessing and the curse of Sex & Food.
In its best moments, this album finds Unknown Mortal Orchestra further defining their brand of R&B-tinged psych-pop on some of their strongest songs to date. “Ministry of Alienation,” true to its title, delves into the Orwellian fatigue of modern life over a dreary and hypnotic instrumental, and the undeniable groove of “Everyone Acts Crazy Nowadays” sends Dangerous-era Michael Jackson through a warped, heady filter filled with burbling keys and Nielson’s nimble guitar work. But the band also finds themselves toeing old paths without pushing forward, particularly in the album’s latter half on songs like “The Internet of Love (That Way)” or “How Many Zeroes,” which fall short lyrically compared to the societal concerns addressed in other tracks and ultimately play like UMO-by-numbers.
Still, Sex & Food undeniably has more highs than lows and its front half burns with enough fire to make some of the later lackluster moments a little more forgivable. It also shows the stylistic diversity the band is capable of. The hard-hitting mix of Hendrix-indebted psychedelia and proggy funk on “Major League Chemicals” battles to escape the compressed confines of Nielson’s production with excellent results; more free-wheeling and lively than the band has ever sounded, but still sounding like them. Lead single “American Guilt” is similarly explosive, with its fuzzed out guitar bursting at the seems locking into one of the best riffs of the year before barreling full speed ahead on the song’s chorus. It’s UMO trying on “rock” like a costume and they wear it pretty damn well.
Sex & Food is an album torn between closing one chapter and opening a new one. When Nielson focuses his gaze forward, or even better, outward, the true breadth of Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s potential becomes apparent. Things might slow down as he throws a few glances backwards, but with a foot still on the accelerator, the band leaves the impression with this record that we still have yet to see how far they can go.
