Imagine that you are watching a bizarro version of the 1985 fantasy flop Legend. Here Tom Cruise has been replaced by new wave-singer/possible-alien ____Klaus Nomi. The film is run at half speed. Pink snow falls on a gray meadow while Nomi strikes the pose of an anguished clown. Unicorns weep. This just about sums up the mood that dominates Love Is Real, the second record by Ariel Pink associate John Maus. Here the tragic collides with the ridiculous in the most garish way possible, and it's never quite clear whether you're supposed to laugh or cry. It's as if a gang of drag queens walked into the sessions for Joy Division's Closer and exploded.
Love Is Real finds Maus putting synth-pop through the washing machine until all of its vibrant sounds have turned to colorless reverb-drenched mush. On "Heaven is Real" the Austin, Minnesota-based musician projects sticky melodrama through new-age keyboards and half-hearted drum machines. "You don't have to run anymore," chants Maus in a warbling baritone that sounds positively cadaverous. Similarly, "Do Your Best" brings the pulse down to a crawl as Maus slow-motion croons "Reach out to the one you love/ In the city tonight/ You've got to get it right/ In the city tonight" through a bed of shimmering synthesizers. It's gaudy, glittery, and cold-- simultaneously a parody of overwrought balladry and the loneliest, most desolate song ever. These are Love Is Real's finest songs and they're really, really creepy.
But if you can't get into Maus' whole lo-fi-spiritual-anguish-as-brought-to-you-by-Falco thing, there's not much else here to pick over. For every thrillingly creepy 80s dirge that the record has to offer, there's at least two tracks of boneheaded filler. "Too Much Money" and "Don't Worship the Devil" are thin and skipable gags. The less said about "Rights for Gays"-- a faux-disco prank where Maus sings the lyrics "Tie them to a fence post/ Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow/ Rights for gays and medical care for every one!"-- the better. It's hard to make an album that's truly creepy these days. You can only get so far detuning your guitar and cribbing your lyrics from the back pages of Fangoria-- that path has been worn bare. But through a surprising combination of nostalgia and clumsiness Maus has stumbled into an eerie and claustrophobic realm that most full-on rock bands can't access anymore. As Love Is Real's Catholic Mass-inspired elegy "Tenebrae" escalates towards an ostentatious climax of Clockwork Orange-style keyboard fanfare Maus begins to chant the words "Sing to the mystery of his blood" and it's obvious that-- even if it is diluted by trifling filler-- Love as Real has succeeded in finding a softer, gentler way of guiding you to a gothy place.
