Formerly a knob-turner in the melodic noise rock band Parts & Labor, Dan Friel went solo with 2008's Ghost Town on Important Records and now moves over to Thrill Jockey for Total Folklore. He uses cheap keyboards, chained pedals, field recordings, and knick-knacks to brew his blown-out, euphoric tunes, and records them on an ancient PC. The precarious setup translates into punchy instrumentals instilled with the raw energy of punk. This is noise pop that doesn't stint on either side of the bargain, striking a perfect balance between cataclysmic and catchy.
Friel does not remotely fuck around in getting Total Folklore started: "Ulysses" is a beautiful bastard of a noise pop jam that lasts for almost 13 exhilarating minutes. From the filthy bass and shattering drums to his suspenseful squeals and wriggly neon accents, every part is vicious and volatile. Friel corrals all this unruliness with a heaving boom-clap beat that he keeps milling down to an earthquake-low rumble before rebuilding it differently, with audible allusions to prog, hair metal, trancy electro, and even 90s slacker rock.
Meting out earworms and explosive drops until the end, Friel earns every minute of "Ulysses". It fills a good third of the album, and you might imagine it would leave you worn out for the remainder. But "Ulysses" is so energizing that the shorter tracks seem to whiz by, with plenty of highlights among the desultory interstitials. There’s "Valedictorian", a sweetly screaming anthem in the style of M83; "Scavengers", with its nasty groove and drunkenly weaving pitch, and especially "Thumper", where a touching melody ripples rapidly.
Still, no one could be expected to sustain the maniacal force of "Ulysses" for longer than Friel already does, and the following tracks can't help but pale a little in its shadow. They settle into slightly more prosaic electro pop proportions and cadences, becoming more reliant on distortion than structural instability. Long rows of evenly pulsing notes paired with streaming harmonies make for a low-stakes default mode. But when an album's mild downsides are all relative to its overwhelming strengths, it's hard to complain.
