A fellow writer who recommended Foals to me some years ago described them as playing math-pop, but without any of the pretentious bullshit that a tag like that suggests. The Oxford five-piece have always had a forthright and considered approach that evades the tired tropes of the emotional indie fare coming out of their homeland. Their third album marries that intelligence with a realised confidence in their vision – the results, needless to say, are immediate and very fucking powerful.
A significant element of that power comes from the influence of UK producers Flood and Alan Moulder (U2, Nine Inch Nails), who spent time with the band during the writing process. Case in point: the shimmering percussion of Prelude, which fades beneath the slow siren call of guitars that don’t sound like anything constructed by human or machine.
The opener is followed by the one-two punch of big singles Inhaler and My Number: the former recalls the mean streets guitars and sexy ’70s vocals of Miami (from predecessor Total Life Forever), and the latter features frontman Yannis Philippakis delivering a triumphant ‘fuck-you’ chorus. Philippakis’ ability to meld such a decidedly nasty message into the most aurally-uplifting and accessible track on the album – it was absolutely flogged to death by the national broadcaster throughout the week they were in Australia recently – serves as a reminder that Foals are led by a supremely clever songwriter.
Milk And Black Spiders presents Philippakis at perhaps his most lyrically intimate – an enjoyably direct address from the band that will no doubt be completely contradicted when they deliver it in epic live form.
Best Track: My Number
If You Like These, You’ll Like This: BOMBAY BICYCLE CLUB, METRONOMY, TWO DOOR CINEMA CLUB
In A Word: Potent
