Fievel Is Glauque conjures up visions of the world's busiest forest, thick with hopping rabbits, canoes gliding down the river, and elven creatures serenading you from thickets and trees. Or maybe it's a traffic jam in heaven – a pastel tangle of woodwinds, guitar, drums, keyboards, synths and vocals as ticklish as the wind rushes past your ears. The last of the duo, Rong Weicknesis their prettiest, poppiest prog-jazz clusterfuck yet.
Performed by an octet, this album expands FIG's style into vibrant hyperchromatic odysseys. Their beloved debut, God's Garbage Sent to Right the Messit was recorded entirely on mono tape, giving it a charmingly stuffy, attic-dusty atmosphere. The sequel, Flaming swordsit was done overnight, with many tracks clocking in at two minutes or less. Rong Weicknes it is the result of Zach Phillips, Ma Clément and their teammates putting in more time. Last summer, they retreated to a bucolic farm and studio in the Catskills for a week, where the team developed a technique Phillips calls “live in triplicate.” They put on three different live performances and then, in meticulous post-production sessions, stripped away pieces to land on a final collage of the performances.
The idea that they removed anything is hard to believe, because the final product still often sounds like multiple jam sessions on top of each other, a buzzing hive of harmonized insanity. The way it's mixed almost feels like they're trying to prevent listeners from picking out and distinguishing the ingredients – is that intense texture a viola? Are these two different woodwinds or just one doubled in octave? There's a pitch-black midi frenzy on tunes like “Kayfabe,” building to a doomsday climax of horns, drums, piano, Clement stretching out until she disappears into the flood. “Dark Dancing” is a verdant garden of flute, percussion and sitar. Clément's voice becomes choppy, a breathless stream of growling ad-libs. Yet the eclectic clutter is strangely danceable, like a disco ball, each tiny mirror flashing a different shade of neon.
What keeps the album from becoming exhausting is the melodic lightness. FIG deftly combines technical freakouts and cutting-edge sophistication with airy freshness. It's a jazz version of mid-'70s pop like the Carpenters, with a flurry of time signatures and tempo shifts and great rhythmic flexibility. Highlight “As Above So Below” is heart-stopping yet irresistible, leaving the instrumental blitz with a top line that feels like basking in the sun. Brief horrors like the saxophone whirlwinds on “It's So Easy” are over almost immediately. It's a Flip-O-Rama between free-form moments when the jazz crew starts blasting wild and fairy-tale Disney sweetness.
