The aforementioned 'Ain't It Easy' and 'Cross The Sea' might be the best twofer of the year, giving the whole experience a reflective and pensive middle section of deep beauty carried along by waves of gorgeously layered vocals and forlorn yet ever diligent instrumentation. 'Miracles' is intricately pieced together and retains the loping hangdog spirit of G's best near-ballads, but the soaring and touching openness of the lyrics make it the genuine article, resulting in a career best track. The best moments here prove that there doesn't need to be such a sharp divide. In moments like these, or the perfectly fine but utterly inconsequential 3 minute vibe 'Headroom Piano', it seems like Alex G can't help himself, reverting back to intellectual stimulation over emotional engagement. 'S.D.O.S.' also squanders its own momentum with a spit take second verse that cheapens the whole thing. The droning and hermetic 'Blessing' comes off as a concentrated retreating from the open vulnerability of the revelatory glitch folk balladry of 'Cross The Sea', which itself ends in a clutter of dramatic sci-fi synths, threatening to derail the quietly devotional torch song. 'Mission' puts enough sustain in the vocals and the big smacks of keys to leave space for a Bowie-esque celestial longing. The somnambulent pinging guitar of 'Ain't It Easy' sounds like an abandoned satellite orbiting a lonely moon, effectively conveying the muted sense of desperation for connection and protection. Whether it's the pounding choral interludes placed in opener 'After All' or the cavalcade of drizzling keys and Strokesian guitar stabs in early jolt of energy 'Runner', Alex G repeatedly finds engaging ways of putting big melodic flourishes in these songs without feeling overly kitschy, usually by marrying these attention grabbing tactics with emotional resonance. There is a rich and bright burst of melodicism that binds these songs together as a warm and connective organism. The biggest upgrade that can be found this time is consistency and flow. Keeping this in mind, God Save The Animals sounds like a slippery and self-conscious side-step to that more song-based and storybook frame of mind, harkening back to the kind of fractured and impressionistic indietronica the artist made a name on, but now bearing a newfound emotional directness and mastery over sequencing and flow. This modus operandi is not radically different than previous effort House of Sugar, but that album cloaked itself in an at-times impenetrable atmosphere of unease and kept listeners slightly at a remove through lyrics tied to an enigmatic concept. On God Save The Animals, Alex G once again revels in multitudes, wielding his considerable songwriting powers to conjure warped and kaleidoscopic pop songs that operate like a funhouse mirror: by accumulating so many auditory, thematic and lyrical sensations, it can be disorienting and exhilarating and challenging to know what exactly it is you caught a glimpse of.
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