Dave Portner (aka Avery Tare)’s release Down There is less of a departure from Animal Collective than your typical frontman-gone-solo a la Thom Yorke’s The Eraser.
Tare preserved the group’s distinctive elements: the prototypical pitch shifted, hyper-modulated, alienesque weird s--- that AC fans have come to know and love.
While stylistically similar, the mood defined by the rhythmic chaos laced with melody that we heard in the band’s latest studio album, Merriweather Post Pavilion, and in Strawberry Jam has become melody laced with a dark, uneasy, swamp-like vibe.
The warped vocals that accompany the beginning of many of the tracks form a strange, eerie narrative that mirrors the mood of the songs and carries throughout the album.
Tare recorded his album after a good bit of personal turmoil: separation from his wife, the death of his grandmother, and watching his sister battle a rare cancer. One of the reasons the album is so dark is because Tare came from such a dark place emotionally, which is certainly reflected in the album’s mood and lyrics.
In fact, his sister even makes an appearance in the second-to-last track, with the eponymous “Heather in the Hospital,” about his sister’s fight with cancer.
The album cover, a moss-eaten crocodile skull from a picture Tare took on a trip to Peru, fits nicely.
Down There kicks off with “Laughing Hieroglyphic,” a seven-minute affair dripping with maudlin sentiment.
“The worlds are all jumbled and faded,” Portner croons over a dreary, staccato organ line and, later on, “When I get f***ed up / I do my best to make myself not f***ed up again.”
In “Three Umbrellas,” a song presumably about his fellow AC bandmates, Tare sings, “I’ve been hiding under three umbrellas.”
The track sounds like it could be straight off of Merriweather, and “Oliver Twist” morphs from a hesitant, staggering beat to a driving bass line, with the occasional interlude packed with pitch-shifted vocals.
A little less than halfway through, the mood shifts, becoming darker with “Glass Bottom Boat,” a short, one-minute 42-second invitation to venture further down into the swamp.
“In a way,” he says, “hell is a swamp, to me.”
“Ghost of Books” takes the listener to a strange, murky underworld. “I went away to a ghost land / It felt like a perfect dream,” Portner sings.
A jumble of muffled voices, followed by a transition to “Cemeteries,” a slow, atmospheric piece that makes us feel like we’re floating down a river on a dark, moonlit night.
At first, the mood is threatening, but gradually it becomes somber and then warm.
The gradual ascent from the swamp begins with “Heads Hammock,” as Portner ponders “why I made the choice to move / licking all of my wounds clean.”
It continues through “Heather in the Hospital,” which mirrors the airy melody of “3 Umbrellas.”
“Lucky 1” is a reservedly optimistic conclusion to a trudge through melancholy: “Fly off from harder days / Today feel like the lucky one.”
Down There has a lo-fi quality, which adds to its murky, downtempo dubstep feel.
Portner’s beats often serve to accent rather than lead, leaving a void that is filled by swirling vocals or a repetitive synth line, all given a healthy dose of filters, oscillators, and reverbs.
It’s uncertain whether Tare’s words are truly becoming less obtuse, or merely seem that way because he’s giving us more of them. He’s stated that the album was partially a way of exorcising personal demons.
While it’s possible to relate to some of the lyrics as an outsider, one still feels a bit of an emotional voyeur after witnessing Tare’s catharsis. The album is deep, and yields new discoveries with repeated listens.
