#being dead

Opening with the chugging guitars and drums of “Godzilla Rises,” Shmoofy and Falcon exchange then share lines, building from slightly off-key before aligning into three-part harmonies with Johnston. “Van Goes” follows a similar pattern as the they dissect the absurdity of the 9 to 5 routine. So far so good. Things start getting interesting with “Blanket of my Bone” on which they intersperse twangy shouting with angelic verses that sound like Rosemary Clooney fronting The Jayhawks before casually throwing in a wavering mellotron into the outro. There’s rough acoustic balladry on “Dragons II” which wittily destroys the Prince Charming fantasy, before regretfully observing “There’s no one to rely on/There’s no map left to guide us.” The B-52’s like romp of “Ballerina” ends with a hoe-down worthy but ironic shout out to Texas. “Rock n’ Roll Hurts” is the Dadaist center of EELS. Echoing “We Are Being Dead” from their first album, the trio chant the title but can’t help but break the fourth wall, dissolving into giggles at the absurdity of it all.

Being Dead are very much alive. Messy, expansive, full of contradictions, sharp turns, and a joie de vivre that wants to experience and express everything at once. They are also endlessly inventive and engaging, their effortless melding of styles held together by glorious harmony and complete assurance.