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Animal Collective: Centipede Hz

Domino

Whoever wrote the old hit about how “the future’s not ours to see” clearly never heard an Animal Collective record (think about it) and was certainly never exposed to the impenetrable pop logic that the band has seemingly mastered on its ninth album, Centipede Hz. Not that the future is destined to sound like Animal Collective necessarily, but it seems as apt a description for any for the zooming day-glo productions that whiz atop the most expansively classical structures that Mssrs. Panda Bear, Avey Tare and Deakin have yet attempted (“Moonjock,” “Rosie Oh”) like Back to the Future II’s 2015 on impressionism. Or acid. Mysterious noise blurts casually decimate choruses and melodies that far less ambitious bands would trade their sponsorships for, but—perhaps for the first time—Animal Collective let them survive mostly unscathed. Though there’s the occasional thumping gateway for the EDM set (“Monkey Riches”) and fuzzed transitions that prevent listeners from catching too much breath, Centipede Hz strikes perhaps their best yet balance between obfuscation and hooks. With choruses that erupt like blustery CSN anthems
(“Amanita”), arrangements that trigger the forgotten playfulness of old Phish (“Applesauce” and almost everywhere), and an unceasingly joyous pulse, the present is a pretty bright place for furry futureniks.