Matthew Friedberger can be called many things -- eccentric, bizarre, brilliant, and overflowing with musical ideas. Some even (inexplicably) call him pretentious, probably because his music is so weird and so prolific.
But he shines in his "Winter Women/Holy Ghost Language," the first album made without his sister Eleanor. The two-disc set could have used a bit of pruning, but Friedberger is in his element with strange lyrics and tripped out, blipped out piano music that sounds like the mad cousin of the Fiery Furnaces. Which, in a way, it is.
"Winter Women" is a more "typical" rock album, with a sort of country-folk flavour. It opens with the thunderous synth, cymbals and ripply keyboard of "Under The Hood At Paradise Garage," which rattles into a solid little pop tune that sounds like it's having a psychedelic line dance. Well, what could you expect? Normality?
He follows it up with a solid round of indie-rock songs: guitar pop with violins and synth, accordion rock, cheery little pop tunes, swoopy keyboard melodies, percussion pop with rippling keyboard and flute, music-hall piano with gongs, and gothic keyboard tunes that blossom out into catchy synthpop.
"Normal" Friedberger is enough to make most people dizzy. But he lets loose in "Holy Ghost Language": it opens with a sizzling guitar riff, which slowly descends into a chaos of dancy keyboard and thunderous piano. The lyrics get even stranger: "And he thumbed home the good news/blessing/grace/wisdom from on high/notion, And off it went happily into the ether."
The songs that follow flow into one another, without unifying sounds -- most of it is made of seemingly random assortments of music-hall piano and trippling, swoopy, squiggly synth, which somehow organize themselves into rambling experimental melodies. There's the occasional song like the tight piano-pop "First Day At School," but it's the minority.
Basically, "Winter Women/Holy Ghost language" is exactly what should be expected of Friedberger: solid pop and absolute musical madness. There are fans of either kind of music in the Fiery Furnaces, and so Friedberger gets both varieties out of his system -- there's something here for all fans.
His instrumental skills are completely brilliant and utterly mad. There's quirky piano melodies, solid percussion and half-hidden riffs, and keyboard that is out of this world -- it sounds like strangled computers, falling fireworks, robotic cellos, tweeting birds, and other strange things. And he weaves in flute, weeping violins, harmonica, gongs... oh, who knows what else.
Friedberger only sings on the "Winter Women" disc. He has a nice croony little voice that tends to drift off in some of the songs -- and he doesn't even bother singing at all in "Holy Ghost Language," where he tends to murmur in rambling monologues, telling us of teen alcoholism, language translations, Japanese fog, divine help, and "Beijing ring cities' concrete contracts."
Friedberger does a brilliantly fragmented job on "Winter Women/Holy Ghost Language," two albums' worth of excellent material. Only half of it is "accessable," but it's musically adept and brilliantly off the wall.