Of Montreal – Koko, London 06/10/10

Fish-headed laser robots, skull-headed kids, men in full-body lycra suits locked in mortal battle…yup, Of Montreal are back, and with all the quiet dignity we’ve come to expect. It’s clear from the outset they’ve ramped up their theatrics budget, but it’s heartening to note that unlike some of their peers *coughs*theflaminglips*coughs* they’ve put some effort into bolstering their substance as well as their style. Back in the day they didn’t even have a live drummer for most songs; now they’re a full-blown 9-piece, with the backing tracks of old consigned to the rubbish heap – and if the scintillating ‘She’s A Rejector’ was anything to go by, it’s certainly made a huge difference.

True, a couple of the newer tracks fell flat, most notably ‘Enemy Gene’ which felt neutered without the dazzling presence of Janelle Monae, but despite False Priest being a by-the-books rehash of their last couple of albums, the new songs generally came across well, if lacking the catchiness of their best material. It’s also a shame that ‘The Party’s Crashing Us’ was the sole representative from the pre-Hissing Fauna era; one hopes they haven’t excised the likes of ‘Wraith Pinned To The Mist’ from their live canon for good. But for the most part, this was a joyous extravaganza that pitched a perfect balance between crazy antics and quality musicianship; which peaked with the superb confetti-strewn finale of ‘A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger.’

That said, for all the campy razzle-dazzle on display tonight, it was the determinedly dark ‘The Past Is A Grotesque Animal’ that showcased Of Montreal at their best. Ditching the dayglo disco-funk for a bleakly minimalist meditation on failed relationships and mental breakdowns may appear to be an odd shift in tone, but there’s always been darkness behind their colourful exterior. There’s no need for costume changes or projections out of a bad LSD trip here- this intense 12-minute krautrock epic has Kevin Barnes bare his psyche unadorned, and by God, it’s a pretty fucked-up place to be. There’s a tendency for some reviewers to dismiss Of Montreal as facile indie-pop, but this is the perfect counter-argument; proof that behind the silliness there’s real depth to this Gay Parade.

Photographs courtesy of Sebastien Dehesdin