MGMT
Loss of Life

The story of MGMT has always been a paradigm of the troubled relationships within the fabled triangle of artist-label-public. Andrew VanWyngarden and Benjamin Goldwasser attracted the attention of various major labels in their early years, when under the name Management they were churning out potential synth-pop hits with a summery and tremendously indie flavor, before signing with Columbia Records in 2006. Fatefully, not long after, the two had a musical epiphany, partially guided by producer Dave Fridmann: their genre was psychedelic rock.

But Columbia had signed two young hitmakers, not exactly the next Pink Floyd. And the path to their first official album had to pass through the re-recording of the catchy "Time to Pretend" and "Kids", which in the version of "Oracular Spectacular" (2007) secured MGMT public success. However, the aversion to 2000s pop was already evident in that debut: apart from "Electric Feel", completing the trio of singles, the songs took a more tortuous path, suggesting hallucinogenic oriental fantasies ("4th Dimensional Transition") or imploding in post-rock phrasings ("Of Moons, Birds & Monsters"). And, if the lyrics of "The Handshake" were an open protest against the contractual obligation, the record label could still console itself with the extraordinary sales of the album.

Having broken the ice in the music industry, MGMT knew exactly where they were heading. "Congratulations" (2010) is a left turn in full rule: completely disappearing are the dancefloor tracks, the pop sensibility is directed to more traditionally psychedelic coordinates, creating an album perhaps not very original but undoubtedly courageous. Initially slammed by critics, "Congratulations" gradually won everyone over, sweeping away rumors of a return to synth-pop and granting the duo greater artistic freedom.

A privileged condition that VanWyngarden and Goldwasser exploited very poorly: the eponymous album, dated 2013, is a tangled account of their fascinations at the time, suspended between further tributes to 60s and 70s psychedelia (the cover "Introspection" and the gem "Alien Days"), tracks distorted to the extreme ("Mystery Disease"), synthetic chants ("A Good Sadness") and whatever they had in mind when they entered the studio to record "Astro-Mancy" and "Plenty of Girls in the Sea". Not a total débâcle, but certainly a blurred album and a big question mark on the duo's future.

The frictions that emerged during the album recording dissolved during the long silence leading to "Little Dark Age", the 2018 album that saw MGMT return to play with pop in unexpected ways: modeled after their debut, half of the tracks are psychedelic rarity and half a triumph of immediate melodies, this time in new wave territory. Perhaps the first moment in their career where artist and critic walked hand in hand, but no one could have predicted the delayed success of the single "Little Dark Age" with the public: the wild card is called TikTok, a platform that skyrocketed the song’s popularity, greatly boosting MGMT's prospects and winning them thousands of new fans worldwide.

For a career made of so many ups and downs, MGMT’s music is extraordinarily normal. Regardless of the instrumentation that accompanied them, their lyrics have always dwelt on existentialist themes, combining nostalgia, pessimism, and (metaphorical?) doses of LSD. About twenty years since their debut and six years since their last album, no one could have asked the duo for anything better than a well-thought-out retrospective, and "Loss of Life" is exactly that.

The album, as told to the press, is built on the model of a therapy session: the listener hears a mysterious, inaccessible motif, both ancestral and apocalyptic ("Loss of Life, Pt. 2"), digs deep into their conscience analyzing their surroundings, until they look back and discover they have at least part of the tools necessary to decode that motif ("Loss of Life"). It is an album about accepting death, apparently assembled backward and avoiding grandiose conclusions and univocal interpretation, as if to convey the idea of how much life there is in death and vice versa. Yet, once again, it is extraordinarily normal.

Let me explain better. VanWyngarden's lyrics have never been so honest and earthy, even when using imaginative metaphors: "Bubblegum Dog", focused on the difficulty of reconciling one's flaws with the challenges of the external world, portrays the pain resulting from this contrast as a gum dog (some have thought of it as a reference to a Nietzsche quote) always lurking and never definitively spat out, a continuous regurgitation. And particularly interesting is the kind of poetics of small things that emerges in other parts of the album; an example is the first significant sung lines of the album, those opening the single "Mother Nature": "I put the groceries down on the front lawn / And think maybe the children just want recognition".

And, if at times it's difficult to distinguish imagination from reality ("Did I dream before? I felt like I couldn't love no more", from "Phradie’s Song"), when the latter emerges, the narrator's gaze is totally disillusioned: it is a world in which nothing changes for the better, and any form of revolt—against oneself or the injustices surrounding us—seems doomed to fail. The absence of a learning curve that gives meaning to the process based on trial and error is well represented by the hypnotic acoustic guitar loop underpinning "Nothing to Declare" ("The waters beckon me to dive / I can tell the pearl's in there / And still there's nothing I can find").

Despite considerations on the lyrics, this "Loss of Life" is anything but a dark work overall. Except for a few sparse exceptions, like the already mentioned opening and closing tracks, the music is vibrant and sometimes even joyful. "Mother Nature" and "Bubblegum Dog" are the most electric pieces (the guitar and harpsichord solos in the latter are spot-on), while "Dancing in Babylon", in collaboration with Christine and the Queens, masterfully recreates the atmosphere of certain romantic duets of the Eighties.

Even in more subdued passages, like "People in the Streets", the acoustic guitars are warm and enveloping (Daniel Lopatin's work on production is impeccable) and there is room for an explosion of synthesized strings. "Nothing Changes" is one of the most out-of-character pieces of the batch: in the first part, it brings MGMT closer to the dreamiest Cure, then unexpectedly pulls out ascending trumpet solos that counterpoint the voice. The final triptych significantly slows down the pace and, while losing much of the incisiveness of the previous tracks, it is a reasonable viaticum for the journey to the afterlife.

"Loss of Life" is the album of two musicians who feel they have nothing left to prove to others and create music primarily for themselves, hoping someone else along the journey may find comfort in it. And those who listen to these songs with sufficient patience will find a providential travel companion, in today's life and in what is to come.