As one of the most isolated cities on the planet, Perth has proven fertile ground for autonomous eccentrics and studio shut-ins, from Sleepy Jackson/Empire of the Sun impresario Luke Steele to Tame Impala mastermind Kevin Parker. And to that list we can now add Jake Webb, who launched his equally wiggy outfit, Methyl Ethel, as a solo home-recording pursuit in 2013. But while mounting acclaim prompted Webb to turn his private concern into a flesh-and-blood touring band, Methyl Ethel’s debut full-length, Oh Inhuman Spectacle, is reflective of the project’s humble, hermetic beginnings, with Webb handling all the production and instrumentation.
Webb is clearly a devout student of 21st-century art-rock, where old-school psychedelia converges with modern technology—think Radiohead circa Kid A (complete with a song called "Everything Is As It Should Be"), Yoshimi-era Flaming Lips, Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion, the more meditative end of MGMT. But he melts these sources into something more intimate and claustrophobic, with a distinct, disarming voice that infuses his deceptively serene soundscapes with a nervous tension. Through the haunted-house fog of "Also Gesellschaft," he delivers his mission statement with Gollum-like creepiness: "Sometimes, I want to dig a hole and then crawl into it/ I don’t even know if I will come out again/ but I invited you inside." The result is dream-pop for insomniacs—shadowy, nocturnal music whose surface shimmer barely conceals the fidgety, restless soul lurking underneath.
In spite of the obvious attention to getting the mood right, parts of Oh Inhuman Spectacle feel like works in progress. "To Swim" introduces an entrancing, quiet-storm R&B groove but breaks its spell after a too-brief two minutes where "Depth Perception" takes its sweet time building up only to sputter out after a single verse. Webb is still working out the difference between channeling his influences and mimicking them: from its space-bound harmonies to its pulsing backdrop, "Unbalancing Acts" is such a blatant act of AnCo karaoke that some disillusioned fans may actually prefer it to anything on Painting With.
But if Webb is still mastering the finer points of songcraft, he’s got a handle on melody, the most important piece. The trembling guitar line of "Rogues" is pure ’80s dream-pop, but the song’s vacuum-sealed groove and confessional vocal hew closer to "Dreams." On the jangly highlight "Twilight Driving," Webb lets in a little sunlight through the drapes. "It’s the early morning baby, I say, why don’t you hit the snooze," Webb sings, before the relationship is consummated with a bedsheet-rustling sax solo. On an album that’s mostly consumed with paranoid, paralyzing 3 a.m. thoughts about unfulfilled desire, alien abductions, and fever dreams filled with "10,000 screams," "Twilight Driving" extols the virtues of staying in bed for the right reasons: because you have someone there to share it with.
