Album Review: Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam

Animal Collective
Strawberry Jam
Domino, 2007

This one’s hard for a couple reasons. First, hard is the degree to which I tried to embrace this album in its totality, embarking on multiple listens to really “get” it, all the while feeling like I was naturally predisposed to having the supposed glory and brilliance of it all revealed to me at some point. As somebody who for the most part likes the work of Animal Collective and has had almost identical first, second and third impressions of the group’s previous releases, I thought for sure that I would come around to really loving an album that I’m supposed to love. But that’s why this one’s hard – because listening to Strawberry Jam has proved much more difficult than it should be.

Animal Collective’s eighth studio album is offputting from the start. “Peacebone” opens with a jarring, spacey-synth loop that evokes an insect swarm. The track is like a bad mash-up of early-album tracks from Sung Tongs and Feels, but at least “Leaf House” had the decency to cut off its opening noise after a few seconds. Avey Tare sings (forward, thankfully) about Collective-staples food and childhood playfulness, and there’s the same mid-choral screaming bit we’ve heard before in “Grass” and “Who Could Win a Rabbit.” The whole thing is enough to make one wish Panda Bear had just gone ahead and released some sort of supplemental EP to Person Pitch with the Jam songs for which he handles the lead vocals.

“Unsolved Mysteries” and “Chores” are both Panda (Noah Lennox) numbers, distinguished by well-thought-out melody lines that repeat and resurface throughout to form distinct song sections. This is the biggest shift from release to release with Animal Collective, though it’s been subtle. It’s not so much that the vocals are more prevalent – if anything, the production value on Strawberry Jam has actually dipped, especially in comparison to the crisp acoustic sound on Sung Tongs – but the impromptu feel of the group’s earlier vocal work has been phased out. Just go back and listen to “Good Lovin’ Outside” and then come back to “Chores.” Animal Collective still has a little of that childlike sensibility that made it so remarkably unique, but the sound has certainly matured. The outro to “Chores” is a sort of compromise, with a steady rhythm section backing a pretty vocal “wooing” interplay.

“For Reverend Green” should be more divisive than it is, but I’ll gladly lead the crusade that deems it almost unlistenable. Yeah, the guitar effect is kind of cool, but it doesn’t push the song along at all. More a showcase for Avey’s wavering vocal style, “For Reverend Green” drags on entirely too long without building to any type of climax save some raspy screaming of the title character. Affected singing is also the norm on “#1,” a trancelike song that sounds like a bad trip to the carnival funhouse. Clanging drums join Avey’s yelps for the refrains of “Cuckoo Cuckoo,” overshadowing an understated, repeating piano line that could have been better utilized with a less abrasive melody built around it.

There is some saving grace on Strawberry Jam, and when the Collective is on top of their game like on “Fireworks,” they’re really on. The album’s centerpiece is another long-form, meandering pop song heavy on lyrics, but this one continuously builds by introducing new layers throughout. A piano plays the central melody a third of the way through before being joined by a hyena-like vocal harmony, then is re-introduced with an electric sound in the subsequent verse. The rhythm is consistent but elements, such as a snare that quickens the pace, are introduced gradually. Similarly, “Derek,” which is the only song on Strawberry Jam that would have fit cozily on Person Pitch, doesn’t drown out Panda Bear’s melody with excessive noise and benefits from it. The lyrics here also speak to the maturity of the group’s members, as Lennox admits that he learned how to raise his young child by the mistakes he made caring for a dog as a youth. The song takes a sonic leap in the second half, transforming into a stomping dance number that closes the album.

Animal Collective are an elusive bunch with a sound that is unmistakably theirs but mired in a state of flux. With its members embarking on solo efforts, it’s becoming easier to identify the creative force behind a particular song. Occasionally this is a revelation of brilliance, but on Strawberry Jam the weaknesses are all too prevalent. And they’ve already moved on – the Animal Collective live show will likely feature more songs to appear on future albums than ones that appear on this one. Maybe that’s for the best, because even though this album will likely resonate with the majority of the music world as one of the year’s finest, this lone stalwart of the cynicism is already looking forward to the next one.

[Michael Ziman]