Modest Mouse - Golden Casket

DISILLUSIONED BY ROUTINE, YEARNING FOR ABDUCTION

Okay, let's get the obvious out of the way; The Golden Casket isn't on par with Modest Mouse's golden age. That much was known going in, given their rather traditional downward spiral as an aging Rock band. Things get tricky beyond that established expectation though. Something happened between now and 2015, when Modest Mouse released their unfulfilling comeback Strangers To Ourselves. Issac Brock's mental state deteriorated - as evidenced by his bizarre comments during Golden Casket's press junkets - and that precarious lunacy gave birth to this monstrosity. A malformed concoction of stability and novelty, one that satiates Modest Mouse's 2000's era of offbeat gravitas with a neurotic appreciation of Indietronica and Neo-Psychedelia. It shouldn't work, but it does. The good is good, the bad is good. Charmed and rife with peculiarities, few moments spoil an otherwise compelling record. For when sheer talent doesn't do the trick, head-scratching narcosis surely does.

A moment's not wasted before brushing such an itch, as 'Fuck Your Acid Trip' undergoes a whirlwind of confusing alterations. It's whiplash, from verse to hook and back, as Brock's lyrical affray makes for quite an unconventional entrance. Other tracks, like 'Never Fuck A Spider On The Fly' and especially 'Transmitting Receiving,' give Brock free rein to compartmentalize his idiosyncratic behavior. The latter is particularly notable for spending nearly six minutes rambling off a list of tangible, earthbound products over prickly alien synthesizers. It's bizarre and an inevitable love / hate track. While Brock doesn't reach such ludicrous heights elsewhere (I mean really, "moles and trolls, lights at 4 way stops, spiders" is a typical line on 'Transmitting Receiving'), the production trapezes over a balance beam between sane Indie Rock and aged experimentation. The combination is, at times, cheesy, as seen on 'The Sun Hasn't Left' and 'Japanese Trees' with their tendency to juxtapose quirky noises with rudimentary Rock. There's entire songs of the latter mind you, like 'We Are Between' and 'Walking & Running,' which feel more apropos to modern day Coldplay or Muse.

Interspersed between are jaunty outlaw joints that bear a passing resemblance to Good News and We Were Dead, like 'We're Lucky,' 'Wooden Soldiers,' and 'Back To The Middle.' With female vocalist Lisa Molinaro in tow, 'Wooden Soldiers' - somehow - plays off the Punk Blues of Tropical Fuck Storm. The contentious vocal performances and rickety rhythms on display are evidence enough. Unlike Tropical Fuck Storm, who typically amplify their anxieties by song's end, 'Wooden Soldiers' reveals a humble, reflective tone in response, one of Golden Casket's best moments, matched with its best song 'Lace Your Shoes.' On it, Brock fantasizes about a future for his children, with subdued patterns both graceful and endearing. Here, he falls somewhere between Matt Berninger of The National and Jeff Tweedy of Wilco. Potent, patient, and sorely heartfelt. It's a necessary break of lucidity for an album frothing on the brink of collapse. An apt description of Golden Casket, Modest Mouse's strangest record to date.