Inhale, Architecture in Helsinki fans. As the Universe, the fun-headed Australian hyperprog collective's Gus Franklin puts down the pixie sticks, whistles, and fuzzy math from last year's whirlwind-doing In Case We Die, joins brother Lachlan Franklin and Benjamin Browning, and picks up the gravity bong for a layered, languid space-pop odyssey. Fellow AiH member Isobel Knowles aids in the boldly-going. The Outer Void Intrepid Sailor might not sync with The Wizard of Oz, but you never know until you try.
The story: An average dude with wispy Elliott Smith vocals gets drafted to fly "to the ends of the known universe." The outer-space imagery is pretty tough to ignore, but as with sci-fi starkids Grandaddy or Flaming Lips a couple of years ago, the pert pop melodies and playful spirit of adventure make the oddities easier to indulge. Speaking of, "Goodbye" does this best, lyrically recalling, yes, that Bowie song over expansively reverbed acoustic guitars. The faster, fizzier power-pop of "The Radio Is Dead" shakes off the robot blues and could be early Sloan (albeit produced by the Microphones) until its portentous final footfalls. Still, the subject matter provides a handy excuse for warm, chirping synths and intricately textured sonics. "There's no pianos in space/ So I can't even practice my scales," delicate ballad "No Pianos" laments.
Space soon becomes a handy symbol for pop's perennial themes. Despite the protagonist's protestations on "A-OK Up Here"-- initially a cappella except for the ambient noise of the vessel-- loneliness weighs heavy on our intergalactic wayfarer. Urgent sirens and clattering programmed percussion chase him through Bladerunner's bleak urban future, but all he needs fits into the three words of "You Need Love", which wafts through the atmosphere like the dreamier bits of Air's Moon Safari. No one can hear you scream, sure, but on albums like this every heartbeat still clamors vainly against the vacuum.
If The Outer Void Intrepid Sailor is indebted to voyages past, it's also well aware of it. While setting up the plot, "The Announcement" name-checks "Ticket to Ride" and the apropos "Nowhere Man". "Goodbye" casually cites Douglas Adams' numerical answer to everything. The Universe dare to celebrate their universe through skewed, ELO-intricate pop even as their hero's discovery is ultimately disturbing: "There Is Nothing Out There", the slow-motion finale reveals, before vanishing in an angelic, all-encompassing hum, like infinity exhaling.
