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The Student Newspaper of DePaul University

The DePaulia

The Student Newspaper of DePaul University

The DePaulia

The Student Newspaper of DePaul University

The DePaulia

Old tricks, new sound: A review of Animal Collective’s “Centipede Hz”

Animal Collective has always been in a state of flux: Deakin (Josh Dibb) has left and since returned, and the group has admitted their desire to never make the same album twice. “Centipede Hz,” the experimental group’s ninth album, merely confirms their ability to evolve with ease.

Despite including many classic Animal Collective characteristics-screeches from Avey Tare (David Portner), mantra-esque lyrics, heavy percussive elements-the album is hardly comparable to 2004’s “Sung Tongs” and is only somewhat describable in terms of 2009’s “Merriweather Post Pavilion.”

“To us, “Merriweather” is a terrestrial record, where you’re looking up into space or into the sky, contemplating all this stuff,” Tare told Pitchfork in May. “Comparatively, ‘Centipede Hz’ is up in space, on a spaceship — but it’s a lot more grounded in one location than off dreamily in the clouds.”

The album is clearly not of this planet. Though Animal Collective is, in many ways, the epitome of experimental, they are able to explore new realms in sound while preserving many of the norms of popular music. “Rosie Oh” is a freakish alien folk song with sweet vocals mingling with odd synth samples, yet maintaining somewhat normal chord progressions; “Applesauce” is a youthful-sounding ode to childhood.

“Centipede Hz” works most effectively as a cohesive story, and it premiered Aug. 19 on Animal Collective Radio with accompanying – and beautifully weird – visuals, designed by Avey Tare’s sister, Abby Portner. Most songs transition into one another seamlessly, which the group has consistently incorporated into their live performances.

This is comparatively one of the most brilliant new aspects of the album, which allows for a natural evolution of the music: a beat emerges amidst the chaos of samples, a melody builds, and the sound explodes open and reveals itself until it withers into the next transition state.

I have never been so aware of an album’s release date in my life, and though it is no “Merriweather Post Pavilion” 2.0, Animal Collective’s brilliance is still apparent throughout “Centipede Hz.”

Personally, coming to terms with this ever-changing sound is difficult, and this album especially took a while to sink in. However, it’s gorgeous in its own strange and unique way-and there’s nothing else I could possibly hope for from Animal Collective.
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