Unknown Mortal Orchestra: II.

The buzz surrounding 32-year-old Kiwi, Ruban Nielson, is reassuring. Not because his second album is the greatest thing since sliced bread – though it’s very fine indeed – but because his music sounds entirely out of step with anything even remotely of the moment. With Unknown Mortal Orchestra, he’s carved himself a niche far, far away from fashion and so steeped in the psychedelia of the ‘60s and ‘70s, you can practically smell the patchouli oil.
The hackneyed old phrase ‘lo-fi’ has been used to describe UMO, but it’s obvious that a huge amount of care has gone into making II, and an analogue warmth permeates its every fibre. It sounds like a group of musicians recording straight to tape in a small room, and maybe that’s how it was made. Whatever they did, it sounds glorious – raw, unvarnished and alive.
A record’s success is built on much more than just how it sounds, though, and II is a fine showcase for Nielson as a songwriter, guitarist and bluesy singer. He covers plenty of ground across the record’s 40-minute duration, from blazing psyche-rock (‘One At A Time’) to stoned reverie (‘Monki’) and needling, infectious pop (‘Swim & Sleep Like A Shark’ and ‘The Opposite Of Afternoon’), with echoes of dusty funk and dub around the margins. The songs are uniformly strong with some shining peaks, and despite the stylistic hopscotch, that singular production style keeps it all together and makes for the kind of record it’s easy – and tempting – to get lost in.