Although they undoubtably earn the award for the most unimaginative title of the year, Phantogram aimed to make an ambitious record that would present the passionate reaction to the traumatic suicide of Becky Barthel, the sister of Sarah Barthel – one half of the New York duo. Sarah and band partner Josh Carter have already demonstrated their expertise at embracing the dark on their two previous albums Eyelid Movies and Voices with lyrics about abuse, drugs, terminal illness and loneliness, death-associated track names (‘Futuristic Casket,’ ‘Bloody Palms’ and ‘The Day You Died’), their black colour scheme promotions and nocturnal brand of murky post-triphop. However, on their third album Three, the triad of promo, sound and poetry this time unfortunately don’t quite gel well together, leaving an album that’s pretty forgettable even after repeated listens.
Phantogram’s latest work was introduced to the internet by the video for first single ‘You Don’t Get Me High Anymore’. Although LPs should usually be judged solely on their musical content within, Sarah Barthel’s switch from an appropriately dark Mia Wallace hairstyle in front of a shadowy setting (adhering to their illusory band name) to sexy blonde hair walking away from an overblown CGI wave is significant. If the hair was red and blonde it might symbolise the fire on the album sleeve but this is not the case. It instead signifies a transformation in identity from a consistent self-created monochrome abstractness to polished mainstream trite. Along with a sound that’s far too upbeat, radio friendly and predictable, it doesn’t quite compliment possible lyrical analysis on life after a tragedy. An example of the poor quality on the album being ‘Destroyer’, which crescendos like Sia singing Miley Cyrus‘s ‘Wrecking Ball’.
Sarah and Josh share vocal responsibilities in the same arrangement as Chvrches and MSMR and duet on ‘You’re Mine’. Neither have voices that are particularly fascinating. This wasn’t a problem before because the intriguing echoey time signatures, woozy effects and mind-boggling street beats was an advantageous distraction. Without this, the blandness of their vocals are more noticeable, especially Josh’s half-hearted out-of-tune contribution to ‘Barking Dog’ and Sarah’s desperate attempt to sound like Sleigh Bells‘ Alexis Krauss on ‘Calling All’.
It’s not all bad, there are still shades of Phantogram’s old charm present. The gritty broken record loops that made ‘As Far As I Can See’ from their debut so compelling open ‘Same Old Blues’ and contribute to the beat on ‘Cruel World’. Furthermore, the lyrics on the album’s stand out track ‘Run Run Blood’ are pretty impressive. They have a dramatic sense of urgency and panic in a collapsing metropolis. Appropriately zeitgeist: “Swallow everything you don’t believe. Drink away all your memories. Say goodbye to your families.” Although their lyrical skill at using metaphors to euphemize subjects has disappointingly disappeared and it’s hard to tell what the concept of this particular album is about, considering mortality is a common theme of theirs throughout their work anyway.
Ultimately, it’s hard to be open to their new artistic approach when fans are reminded of their previously unique imagination on the soundtrack (‘When I’m Small’) to football show Soccer Saturday most weekends.
