Of Montreal - Ur Fun

I have 2 questions. First, is Of Montreal of Montreal? Second, which "ur" are we dealing with here? 

If they're actually from Montreal then it's totally funny for the grammar needs like me, but if they're not from Montreal then it's not at all funny for a guy who hates post-ironic humor like me. That's a joke, I'm practically the poster child for post-ironic humor, and I'll mud-wrestle both Tim and Eric to prove it. More pressing, is the album title "You Are Fun," "Your [as opposed to my] Fun," "[the authoritative version of] Fun," or some menage-a-conglomorate of the 3? No confidence listening to it will answer either of those questions, but we came here to down the hatches, so down the hatch it goes.

I can't lie, I've tried to review this album many times, but I have a completely unfair bias against it. First, they aren't from Canada, they're from REM/B52's land, Athens, GA. Second, Kevin Barnes has a singing voice that makes me want to listen to the entire Starlight Mints/Double Vee discography instead of the second half of the first song. Kevin Barnes has a singing voice very much like Allan Vest, i'd rather here Allan sing dadaist gibberish, what can I say except the deck is completely stacked against Kevin as far as my listening pleasure is concerned. 3rd, I know it's totally unfair to hold Elephant 6 against him, but I'd unashamedly choose both Neutral Milk Hotel albums over erudite synth-pop any day. Even if you're ironically misquoting Eckhart Tolle, you're still quoting Eckhart Tolle at me, and that's Red Rider level pretentious well above and beyond naming your band after a failed relationship with a woman "of Montreal." Can I get past my own hangups and give it a fair chance?

I'll give you the titles, they're great. I'll also give you the music, it's fabulously disheveled synth-dyspopia, but the Crispin Glover haircut and whatever that terrible Charlie Sheen/Kristy Swanson movie was they're reenacting on the cover (The Chase) are too much. 

Polyaneurism is at least unique, it doesn't remind me of anything much beyond a vague Jagger-esque Britishness. Totally weird reluctant cuckoldry vibes, though.

Nope, we're back to desperately wishing I was listening to Allan instead. What's with the Elastica "uhhh" thing? 

Nooooo! I don't want to be a dolphin in the sea of love. I don't care how catchy Gypsy That Remains is, stop being a matador this instant!

I won't slog through the rest of the play by play. Anyone other than me could completely adore this album. It's good, I just have way too much garbage in my head to get anything other than PTSD from it. It's like that fairly recent Jack White album I hated, mostly because it's all sung at a person he's not in a relationship with anymore. Right? It already failed, it's not a i'm excited/worried about this new relationship album, it's a total mental delusion kind of album. I know we're pushing the limits of decency here, but the whole thing has a serious cry-wank aura that makes me really uncomfortable. Kudos if that was the objective.

I have to assume that was the objective. It's every bit as repulsive as I Prevail's True Power or Third Eye Blind or the like, but somewhere in the back of my mind I have to think it's actual irony like Badflower. It seriously tests my suspension of disbelief, like any moment now self-awareness will kick back in and we'll get an Offspring like level of self-deprecation, but nope we wind our way through "having boundaries is abuse" to "I can't human" and "if everything is fake i want to be fake/ it's so lonely being the only one who thinks they're real."

So yeah, counterintuitively amazing album. You win, Of Montreal, I literally have no idea if it's ironic or not, passive-aggressive bargaining or complete narcissistic egotism, victimization or self-victimization. I guess the good news is that it's objectively horrifying either way. Not listening-wise, it's totally enjoyable once I get past wishing I was listening to practically anything else, but again I kind feel like it's supposed to be listened to against your own will because you the audience are the woman he's singing it to, and you should rightfully prefer meeting a bear in the woods over hearing this blaring from John Cusack's boombox on your front lawn at 3AM. That said, I'd still rather listen to Jeff Magnum have a Neutral Mental Hemorrhage than sit on Kevin's lap as we high-speed chase our way to Canada for no good reason.

Not that I've done a good job selling it, but I totally have this exact copy for sale for 15 over at my store if you want some of this complete insanity in your collection. It's a real conversation starter.