Behind Andy Hull’s voluptuous beard lies a gentle, inquisitive heart. But, in a battle as timeless as one between the Valorians and the Rulons, Hull and Manchester Orchestra, the band he forms the songwriting axis and power of, have to balance out the sheer brutish, bearded nature of rock ‘n’ roll and the tender, lovingly curious ponderings that remain the heart of great songwriting. Balancing that out on a concept album is even more fraught with danger than being the chambermaid for the head of the IMF.
But Hull is a strange and unique figure in music today. Not shy of espousing his thoughts and feelings on his world, he is immensely open and – at times painfully – honest. So for Manchester Orchestra to make a concept album, that it’s about their burly leader and his metaphysical struggles – with God, nature and his wife – is about as surprising as Mike Myers making a movie that doesn’t feel ridiculously dated as soon as its released, and makes perfect sense for the band.
In fact, considering the confessionary (almost Bright Eyes-esque) character of Andy Hull’s writing in the past, it kind of seems redundant to tag it with the term ‘concept’ – it’s not as if he was going to craft a rock opera about King Arthur on ice (thanks for the joke that keeps on giving, Rick Wakeman). No, Simple Math revolves around Hull musing on a fictional infidelity and going from there.
Of course, it might seem the height of hubris to create a concept album about yourself and your perceived complexity – and, in fact, it kind of is – but that’s always been how Hull has approached writing. He looks for meaning in interaction and reaction; in his (and our) actions and words, extrapolating a worldview that at once feels immense, yet insular. It’s that idea of a (sort of) God versus man, and forever trying to figure out one’s role in the world. Heady stuff, especially from a 24-year-old and his band.
But the proof lies in moments like Mighty, April Fool and the title-track – all moody, ponderous riffs mixing it up withsweeping strings to create an atmosphere of confusion, anger and elation in equal measure. Mighty in particular is a malevolent beast of a tune, muscular and melodious all at once, and
That trend continues on the obvious centrepiece of Simple Math: the murmured ruminations of Virgin. With a haunting children’s choir and a breathy group singalong devolving into a wave of guitars, it creeps along, providing a signpost in the tortured journey Hull in undertaking. This is the musical and thematic execution that Billy Corgan used to excel at, before his head got too far up his own arse.
As the story rolls on we get to the beautiful Leave It Alone and its wistful sentimentality laden with stirring strings; it’s easily one of the most rousing moments of many across Simple Math. The way it partners with Apprehension’s tour of duty through the doubts, the blame and the guilt perfectly marks the highpoint of the second half of the album, before Leaky Breaks brings it all back home with a breathless confession. The closure is clear, and the journey draws to a close. Only for an irresistible urge to start all over again to take hold.
Which is what Simple Math is all about – the journey to enlightenment through examination. Facing fears, focusing on your reactions, figuring out your innermost feelings: that’s what Manchester Orchestra excel at. And while this isn’t as immediate as their excellent second effort, Mean Everything To Nothing, what Simple Math achieves is far broader – it’s an all-encompassing experience.
For Manchester Orchestra to have created a work of this scope and magnitude – and with the only regrets being that it’s quite similarly paced and the strings are overdone – speaks volumes of their ambition and talent. Especially their being so young – which leaves me almost as disenfranchised as when they changed the girl in the AAMI ads – luckily we have much more to look forward to.
