Upon initial inspection of the latest release from French pop rockers, Phoenix, it's easy to gloss over the emotion behind the effort. The album is a lesson in hypertension. Bloated veins giving way to jittery fingers, and a hard, fast rhythm all hide the fact that a simple, beating heart is at the center of this phenomena. The main question being, is Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix simply a well-timed summer album, perfect for outdoor dance parties and white-knuckled road trips, or is it something to be reveled in at one moment, yet only casually appreciated over time? Or rather, is it a timeless album whose true depth will only be revealed in time, when our common tragedies cause us to hearken back to comforting imagery and enduring spirit that is carried throughout each track?In a recent interview, Phoenix frontman Thomas Mars stated that the goal of this album was to combine songs 'that wouldn’t make sense together, except that they were played by the same band.' When first running through the album, Phoenix' Strokesy approach seems to suggest that Mars may not have fulfilled this particular goal as each song seemingly blends together and seamlessly. Whether it's the general pacing of each song, their trademark wavering guitars or Mars' penchant for rolling word-repetition, the album, at least at first, seems to be sonically cohesive.
However, this superficial consistency seems to fall apart upon repeated spins. Look no further than the segues between tracks 2 > 3 (1901 > Fences) and 3 > 4 (Fences > Love is Like a Sunset pt. 1). The flow established at the beginning of the album is disrupted when things begin to slow down for a time. So perhaps Mars is able to achieve the goal set forth at the outset of this particular project.
However, Phoenix tips their hand at this very point, even betraying their original intent. Behind the gangbusting pop from which the album charges forth, lies a deep melancholy. Fences' 80's synth pop reels the delirium in for a time, weighing down the whole affair and discussing the barriers form over time come between ex-lovers. Love is Like a Sunset plays like a Nine Inch Nails track gone soft, although I'm sure even Trent Reznor has had his heart broken as well. By the time the pace picks back up, the subject matter of the album has been revealed, so much so that not even the sharp pop/rock of Lasso can hide the album's therapeutic aim. Mars missed his mark, but we're all richer for it.
Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix successfully reminds us not to judge a book by it's cover. While the band's pop wizardry comes off as something breezy or even transient, the subject matter of the album seems to betray this impression. Your neighbor's grass might be greener than yours, but that still doesn't mean that all is well behind the front door and inside the bedroom. Even Franz Liszt and Mozart themselves encountered the ugly at some point or another, yet both were able to rise above it and create beauty in spite of it.
And not to completely indulge in the emo side of things, for this album's overarching energy and execution are still the main reasons for it's relevance, but Phoenix' existentialist approach to such inevitable darkness is the reason why the album succeeds on so many levels. Rather than resort to anguish and quietude, Phoenix is able to harness the energy, accept for what it is and embrace the best way the know how; transfer it through their aptly-honed pop sensibilities, and in a consistent fashion. So, if love truly is like a sunset, then why be concerned with what the night has to bring? Why not squeeze as much pleasure and beauty out of these inescapable events and the memories they provide? It's all just fuel for the fire Phoenix' fire anyway.
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