Umlaut : Desolë
It’s never too late to reinvent yourself. That aphorism arguably applies to artists more than most, and further, rings truer for those artists who are practically impossible to define in the first place. Such is the case with Melbourne, Australia’s Umlaut, a self-described “experimental/film-score/metal/surf-pop” project spawned from the seemingly pathological mind of Clinton “Bär” McKinnon, the saxophonist, clarinetist, keyboardist and backing vocalist for one of the most demented underground bands of them all, Mr. Bungle. There may be nothing more magical in the music-listening experience to hear artists tossing genre conventions to the wind creating songs and sounds you’ve never heard before; and that’s always Umlaut’s modus operandi.
High hopes accompanied (or saddled, if you’re the fatalistic type) Umlaut when they arose in 2009 with their self-titled and self-released debut. That promise existed not only because of McKinnon’s pedigree but because the rambunctious, exotic, hot mess of a record found favor in McKinnon’s Mr. Bungle bandmate, Mike Patton, who was featured on the consummately quirky and quixotic song “Atlas Face.” That song and the bulk of the record resembled the sound of out-of-tune carnival music swirling at breakneck speed on the Gravitron ride. Five years later saw the release of Umlaut album number two, To Your Poverty Quietly Go, a far more introverted effort that was simultaneously more restrained and yet inaccessible.
Eleven years later elapsed, and during that time, Umlaut learned the art of making order out of chaos, culminating with their third effort, Desolë. This time around, McKinnon is again joined by Angus Leslie and Shane Lieber—who, like their partner, were also ready to explore the outer realms of experimental music more boldly than ever before, without alienating even the most adventuresome fans of obscure records. While the gonzo group used to consist of four additional members, this time around they only tapped one additional player: Danny Heifetz, also formerly of Mr. Bungle. Actually relying on melody ensured Umlaut’s listeners would “get” what the band is trying to do: Much like Primus, maximizing playfulness without straying too far into esoterica. Compared to their earlier work, it’s almost as if Umlaut burned an effigy of the previous incarnation of the band as a sacrifice to the gods, which in turn granted the band’s rebirth.
It may very well be that multi-instrumentalist Heifetz was the key to turning headache-inducing songs into effervescent and likable, soft and even whimsical ditties such as “Bumblebee Shoes,” “Grumpy Library” and the practically straight-up track “Happy Now.” The exception to the overall accessibility of Desolë is “My Government Is Never Wrong,” the final song. It initially starts as a murmur of light percussion, odd samples and loops supporting the Tiny Tim-sounding venting about how “the president is killing me/ But it is not a day to grieve/ I stopped breathing when I was 3/ Don’t you dare cast judgment on me.”
But again, how the 10 songs that comprise Desolë are generally catchy is what makes this record a true marvel; it’s like watching a knuckleball thrown by a baseball pitcher circle about as if it’s lost its target, only to land smack-dab in the catcher’s glove. Organs, synthesizers and outboard gear are all at play on this head trip of a record, which ultimately marries jazz-minded experimentation with electronic pop textures. It takes mastery to make order out of chaos, and with Desolë, Umlaut earns that distinction.
Label: Overdrive Records
Year: 2025
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