Review: Monsters of Folk

When Aristotle decided that the whole is more than the sum of its parts, he must have been predicting Monsters of Folk’s self-titled debut album. The indie supergroup, comprised of Conor Oberst, M. Ward, My Morning Jacket’s Jim James and producer/musician Mike Mogis, shows evidence of each member’s musical input, but still manages to achieve its own unique sound.

Oberst’s influence is the one that is the most immediately obvious. He is musically the middle ground between Ward’s bluegrassy take on pop and James’ blues-affected folk-rock, so a blend of the three styles sounds consistent with Oberst’s past work. Despite the clear differences between songs like “The Sandman, the Brakeman and Me” and “Dear God (Sincerely M.O.F.)”—the former a slice of Americana and the latter playful and experimental—Oberst’s presence can still be felt.

“His Master’s Voice” and “Man Named Truth” display M. Ward’s contribution to the group. The two artists fit seamlessly, matching a meaninful delivery with intriguing, reflective lyrics.

James lends his Southern-rock feel to “Whole Lotta Losin’,” and his presence shows in “Magic Marker,” which recalls 90s rocks, minus the cheesiness. That tackiness wasn’t wholly avoided on the catchy single “Say Please,” however. There’s a guitar solo halfway through, but in the context of the otherwise retro pop song, it just seems out of place. Mogis rounds out the quartet, playing instruments like the mandolin that are integral to the distinctly American feel of the album.

Although a few odd songs result when Monsters toys with the already loose definition of indie-folk-rock, the band’s formula simply works. Take “Temazcal” for example, which is a perfect synthesis of the musicians’ individual sounds. Even the occasional clashes of genre add to this character, and the album as a whole is likeable, playful and melancholic—like the band itself.

—Canon Brodar