It’s probably impossible to talk about Animal Collective without engaging in a bit of nostalgia for the indie-rock boom of the late 00s and early 2010s. They’d been a band since the dawn of the millennium – retroactively folding in some earlier releases after the band got its proper name in 2003 – but it was in that precious few years around the turn of the decade that Animal Collective basically became a household name. I’m a testament to this fact myself: the improbable manner in which I learned of AnCo was, in 2010, Gabriel Byrne’s character in the HBO series In Treatment listening to part of their song ‘Fireworks’, from 2007’s Strawberry Jam. Through that thoroughly unpredictable placement in a show otherwise, at a relative remove from pop culture, I was introduced for the first time to the band’s beautifully psychedelic sonic creations, a world of abstract lyricism and vocal harmony and pure creativity that was at the time unparalleled.
The band is the intersection of four inventive minds with four equally unique monikers: Dave “Avey Tare” Portner, Noah “Panda Bear” Lennox, Brian “Geologist” Weitz (who wears a fitting headlamp onstage), and Josh “Deakin” Dibb. Animal Collective and their many contemporaries all came to a new level of prominence in those few years and basically defined the broader world of indie rock as we know it today. But for all the gravitas that comes in seeing a band like AnCo live, knowing that the four people you see on stage are directly responsible for the direction of guitar music in the past decade, the band members themselves seem to be some of the least interested in looking too far back, touring their latest record, Time Skiffs, but spending even more of the night workshopping future tracks than they use to play from their new release.
The audience is a sold-out crowd in Boston as Animal Collective arrives in support of Time Skiffs, and the demographic range in the room is huge – a majority of people are about the right age to have got on board at the time of Strawberry Jam, Merriweather Post Pavilion, or even earlier; but there’s also a healthy cadre of kids from the local universities, a testament to the enduring power of the band. Time Skiffs is the type of beauteous design that immediately puts to rest any of the typical questions of whether an indie band getting back together was a worthwhile endeavor. They never broke up, but this is the first proper LP the core four members of the Collective have made together since 2012’s Centipede Hz – even Painting With six years ago was absent of Deakin.
Backed with a projection screen playing a variety of clips featuring weirdly-rendered human figures, astral figures like stars and moons, or even more abstract shapes and pieces of paper art, the band begin with the lengthy ‘Cherokee’ from Time Skiffs – as has often been the case, Animal Collective are one of the most unhurried bands around, while still making careful use of the time they take. Songs are long with movements and intros and outros and they typically fade effortlessly into one another, patiently developing and morphing in the air. The first portion of the night is distinctly low key, songs possessing hymnal-like qualities at times, as the band meshes now and future, segueing into two unreleased tracks entitled ‘Soul Capturer’ and ‘Broke Zodiac’, an early delight for the devotees who no doubt hang on every new lyric.
‘Car Keys’ features no less than three varieties of synth and xylophone in just its opening seconds, and as is the norm, Time Skiffs is overflowing with delicate vocal layering that begs to be dissected. AnCo has always manufactured their songs with such intricacy, it’s the type of music that deserves a listen on quality headphones. A lot of what might uncharitably be called “indie bros” came out of the 00s insisting you weren’t really hearing music unless you’re listening in lossless; it’s usually not that big of a distinction, compression being what it is, but AnCo is one of those two times a day where the broken clock of your local .flac purist might be onto something.
‘Prester John’ serves as a highlight of the new record for the night, beginning quietly with a funky bassline that gets ever louder, vocals passing back between Avey Tare, Panda Bear, and Deakin, harmonies on multi-tracking on harmonies, techniques that the band pioneered so long ago. Geologist meanwhile summons heavenly synths that usher the track into its second movement, until the final coda where the song’s two main verses intersect before floating off into formlessness. Next, comes a pair of two new songs, the most enticing of which is ‘Defeat (A Not Suite)’, a lengthy journey charting, as many Animal Collective songs often do, a fraught growth from child to adult in the trappings of nature.
As the end of the band’s main set draws near, however, a noticeable shift happens in the tone of the evening. It begins with ‘In the Flowers’ from Merriweather Post Pavilion, coy synth arpeggios mirrored an octave up or down either way to start, but on the lyric “if I could just leave my body for the night” the whole thing changes. A massive light show begins unlike anything we’ve seen prior. One of the easier Animal Collective songs to interpret lyrically, its thrilling middle passage holds in time a brief moment of ecstatic joy in a short-lived and ill-fated relationship. The high energy continues from there though, continuing the transformation into an entirely different show, as the band plays ‘Chores’, screeching guitars and chaotic vocals come through, and Deakin’s on guitar and spinning around hopping on one leg where he’d previously been standing statuesque behind his synths. The lights are all pastel greens and purples and yellows like Mardi Gras has briefly come to the Paradise Rock Club, and the crowd is singing along eagerly.
Despite its recency, ‘Strung with Everything’ draws an equally powerful reaction, its hook of “the sun’s no better off lately” decrying the wasteful and hurried pace of life and its failure to improve conditions of life. The final triumphant chorus, however, stands firm against encroaching darkness, embracing both the specific love of someone’s head on your shoulder and the general connection that binds all the creatures of the world. Portner’s scream of “I WOULD NOT BE AFRAID” resounds amid a bright cacophony of pianos. It’s an instant classic on a scale to match the cosmic ambition of its lyrics.
‘Applesauce’’s count-up to its conclusion brings to a close the main set, but the band returns in just a few moments and debuts yet another pair of new songs, a chanting interlude with free-form drumming entitled ‘King’s Walk’ and then a patient, piano-led tune called ‘Stride Rite’. The crowd can feel the night drawing near its end and some can be heard prophesying that it’ll come with the band playing ‘For Reverend Green’, known for Portner’s beautifully-deranged vocal delivery, but instead comes the even older ‘The Purple Bottle’, its mile-a-minute guitar strumming and crazed carnival piano strikes leading a big sing-along before the band, all smiles, make their exit.
There’s been something wondrous about this show, and part of that wonder was the unpredictability of the setlist and the wealth of new material in there. While there are plenty of valid logistical reasons bands may choose to keep sets the same on a tour, there’s a special kind of magic derived from knowing no amount of internet sleuthing can truly prep you for what you’re about to hear, never knowing what aspects of its history a band will present. Enigmatic as ever and showing no signs of slowing down, any Animal Collective show is a promise to go on a true journey, and it’s not one to be missed.
Review and Photos by Collin Heroux
