And there are a lot of things about Heartland that feel like Pallett is presenting himself more and more fully as an artist; the scope of breadth and mood of it are all grander, more assured, making ever more of a case that the guy shouldn't be viewed as a side note (string arranger for the Arcade Fire, the Pet Shop Boys) or a minor interest (D&D enthusiast, guy who titled an album He Poos Clouds). After all, one of this album's closest cousins in the indie world is a notable, well-regarded one: Joanna Newsom's Ys. Both are ambitious, classicist, cleverly arranged, lyrically high-concept, dense with possible meaning-- and, yes, a little strange.
It's that density that separates them, though, and makes me regret having to review this record in any kind of timely fashion. I'm still smarting over having underrated Pallett's last full-length; I knew I loved it, but had no way of knowing it would stick with me for months, years. And this one is richer: Pallett has leaped beyond arranging for chambers and quartets, working now with electronics, with drums, with electric bass, with the Czech Philharmonic, with Nico Muhly. These are pop songs through and through-- lively, propulsive ones. But the wonder of them is in those arrangements, which are just ripe with motion and detail-- and they're not decorative (as was sometimes the case with Ys), but central. The most immediate track here, "Lewis Takes Action", has Pallett singing grand, anthemic hooks, but the parts you're most likely to wind up humming are the stately brass and woodwind figures between them-- the amount of care and pleasure in these arrangements is extremely generous.
If you're wondering who "Lewis" is and what sort of action he's taking, well, this is one of the things that's just singular and fascinating about Pallett, every bit as much as his music-school voice or the charmingly mannered way he approaches his melodies. On He Poos Clouds, Pallett seemed to be singing about real people, even ordinary ones; it was just that they tended to describe their emotional states in the grand terms of Dungeons & Dragons magic and conjuring. Since then, Pallett's jumped fully into fantasy: These twelve songs are monologues from Lewis, an "ultra-violent farmer" in a world called Spectrum, as he tries to come to grips with his own creator, Owen Pallett. Daunting as that might sound-- there may be hand-to-hand combat with a cockatrice involved-- all it really means is that these are songs about power and faith and control: songs that allow you to sing lines like, "the night is split by the whistle of my amber whip," and have it be about feeling your own power, or just repeat, "I'm never gonna give it to you," and have it be about rejecting someone else's.
You'll have to get back to me in a few months to see how it all unravels, but in the meantime these songs are steadily revealing ever more to love. Martial drums and strings rumbling tense in the foreground with clouds of strings overhead. The sly, soulful melody of "Oh Heartland, Up Yours!"-- something that feels new in Pallett's repertoire. A kind of orchestral motorik beat on "Tryst with Mephistopheles". The way something like an 808 kick drum loops its way darkly into "Red Sun No. 5". Hints of Kurt Weill. This stuff is rich with ideas, and they're offered in the kind of rich, warm sound that should be accessible to more fans than ever before. Those of you with the inclination to pick them up will find a lot to reward you.
