The argument as to whether it's more difficult to write a catchy song or a complicated song will probably never be settled. There is, however, little doubt that few songwriters can pull off both at the same time. Over the course of seven studio albums and countless singles and compilation tracks, Of Montreal mastermind Kevin Barnes has demonstrated a magician-like ability cramming freakish numbers of indelible hooks into pretzel-tight songs. These early reissues are sadly lacking the kind of jaw-dropping moments that grace Of Montreal's best work, but offer a generally solid glimpse into the band's formative period.
The Bird Who Continues to Eat the Rabbit's Flower, an eight-song mini-album released between the band's excellent debut Cherry Peel and the more unwieldy Bedside Drama, is the jewel of these three releases. Bird primarily consists of concise Beatlesque pop but hints at the dizzying dynamics and mile-a-minute chord changes that would define the band's sound. "You Are an Airplane" and "Disguises" are sweet and bouncy, kept aloft by tight, fluid harmonies. "If I Faltered Slightly Twice" combines chipmunk vocals and earnest piano tinkling into a surprisingly moving mini-epic. Barnes sounds uncharacteristically hesitant here, but it works to his advantage, lending these songs an air of humility and wonder.
The Bedside Drama: serves as a more obvious and awkward midpoint between the immediate likeability of early Of Montreal and the manic complexity of their later records. The Bedside Drama, with its more thematic lyrics and reoccurring characters, is the most ambitious of these releases. Album opener "One of a Very Few of a Kind" is the kind of sweet, short, pseudo-conceptual love song at which Barnes always seems to excel, but for the most part The Bedside Drama: is merely unrealized potential, rarely registering as more than pretty sonic wallpaper. The fanciful themes that would make later albums so exciting only seem to reinforce The Bedside Drama:'s status as decorative music.
While a clear stylistic line can be drawn from The Bird to The Bedside Drama, The Early Four Track Recordings is the wildcard here. Aside from the obvious parallels in recording technique, The Early Four Track Recordings brings to mind the haphazardly rich songwriting of early Guided by Voices. "Dustin Hoffman's Wife Comes Home" is among the most directly moving songs in Of Montreal's catalog, winding seamlessly through a chorus of "the telephone only lets me borrow the comforts of your voice." The stripped-down four-track treatment suits many of these songs remarkably well, and bring out an emotional depth that's sometimes obscured by Barnes' complicated arrangements.
Of Montreal's early catalog contains its share of classics-- "Don't Ask Me to Explain" from the band's debut Cherry Peel still stands as one of the best indie pop songs of the 90s. However, at this stage in the band's development, it hadn't mastered the conceptually unified long-player. The fantastical characters aren't quite fantastical enough, the frequent unexpected chord changes are often more distracting than propulsive, and the instrumental interludes are just plain dull. Interestingly, these three releases carve out a stylistic niche not at all dissimilar from Satanic Panic in the Attic, far and away Of Montreal's best record. The difference, really, comes down to six solid years of songwriting. These albums are not without their charms, but even child-like wonder gets better with practice.
