Foxygen’s new album is barely over half an hour long, but it still manages to be all kinds of ridiculous within that timeframe. The Californian duo’s psych tendencies have blossomed here into wild glam Bowie pastiches, camp vaudeville turns and big band brass freakouts (apparently, all eight songs feature a 40-plus-piece orchestra).
At first the wackiness is too much to digest, a sort of “you don’t have to be mad to review this, but it helps!” Yet against the odds, Hang does reward patience – there’s a Todd Rundgren-esque devotion to melody throughout and, on the country-tinged On Lankershim, something approaching a conventional tune (until the funny voices arrive). It won’t be for everyone; I still can’t decide if it’s even for me. And as for the band? Even they admit they ended up delving into “lyrical scenarios we don’t quite understand” – which just about sums it up.
