Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 23/09/2002
Label: 679

By now you will have experienced the hype about The Polyphonic Spree. A 24-piece 'choral symphonic pop group' from Dallas, Texas, they dress in white robes and sing joyous songs about the sun and community strength, that sound like Mercury Rev and the Beach Boys guesting on 'The Muppet Show'. Their gigs, from the Royal Festival Hall right up to Reading festival, have been extraordinary affairs, loved as much for the quasi-religious spectacle as the music itself. But, as the initial buzz subsides, what remains?

The good news is that The Polyphonic Spree still make sense stripped of all visual gimmicks. On record, they sound less like a West End musical and more like a classic rock group, equal parts 'Pet Sounds', 'The Soft Bulletin', and the soundtrack to 'Head', the psychedelic movie that broke The Monkees out of their TV shell.

The first nine tracks on this record are essentially different workings of the same idea. Initially, on the Good Records pressing, the songs came without name, as the group were well aware that these "sections" are merely smaller parts of a larger whole. Now they have titles in brackets, most of which could be created by entering the words "day", "sun", "reach" and "celebrate" into a random word generator.

Sections one and two unfurl like a flower greeting the daybreak, rising from a state of smiley serenity to full on ecstasy. It's an obvious trick, so much so you wonder why no-one's thought to gather a 14-piece band and 10 piece choir together before, but even so you can't help but be swept along. Lyrically, the message is simple as well: reach out for strength, take that strength inside, believe in the power of life and move onwards and upwards.

There are moments of reflection here too, darkness even, and you sense that future Polyphonic Spree records will explore the comedown after the bliss to great acclaim. Section three is a long slow sigh. Section four is troubled and chaotic, the rose tint dispersing to reveal the bustle and decay of the real world. Section five is spaced out, on the edge of anxiety. But the good feeling soon returns, the conviction and inner steel overriding all fears.

It's section ten, though, that will cause the most confusion. Lasting 36 minutes and 30 seconds, it's four octaves of singer Tim DeLaughter's voice played on a keyboard in the middle of the night. You'd have to be mentally unstable to derive pleasure from listening to the whole thing and you have to wonder why it's there at all.

But this is mere quibbling. They came to us as a sideshow for the chattering classes and leave with question mark shaped halos shimmering above their heads. These, remember, are just the beginning stages of the most bizarre band on the planet. Now that they've tasted love and redemption, only the Lord himself knows what The Polyphonic Spree are capable of next.

    by Ian Watson