Animal Collective - Tangerine Reef

Bandcamp Daily

On “Tangerine Reef,” Animal Collective make music to accompany undersea exploration.

Tue Aug 28 15:48:13 CEST 2018

70

Drowned In Sound

On Animal Collective’s twelfth studio album, they have decided to go on a deep venture into the deep blue sea. Tangerine Reef is an audiovisual foray into sea life up close, combining ethereal and ambient aquatic soundscapes with intimate visuals of the spawning creatures that belong to it. Bright, colourful organisms shot through slow time-lapses and steady pans give the project an a very delicately visceral feel.



Tangerine Reef was also created with the astute intention for the band to raise awareness about the danger that coral reefs are in, urging listeners and fans to use their understanding of the footage to do their part in caring for the ocean. The record, which the band dedicated to the International Year of the Reef effort, features three members of the original quartet – Dave 'Avey Tare' Portner, Brian 'Geologist' Weitz and Josh 'Deakin' Dibb (no Panda Bear).

One of the most beautiful things about the prolific psych-pop group is their unpredictability, and Tangerine Reef is utter proof of that. The Baltimore band are known to produce pop in its most pure form on one album, and then delve into an audio/video representation of marine life on their next. Tangerine Reef is as experimental as they come for Animal Collective – epitomising the idea that music in this day and age is able to shift and evolve as much as the creators please.

In truth, Animal Collective didn’t really need to depend on the visual accompaniment to Tangerine Reef as the record does extremely well to capture the essence of the life aquatic on its own. The Baltimore band joined forced with Miami-based videographers Coral Morphologic to shoot footage underwater. But unlike 2010's ODDSAC, the music exists perfectly well apart from the visuals. The result is an album steeped in murky ambiance and stuffy reverb, celestial and ghostly, minute details strewn across the soundwaves to emulate the floating presences of the minute, drifting sea creatures.

The tracks across the album drift into one another like an endless stream of consciousness, and the visuals do well in acting as placeholders to where you are in terms of progression of the record. The visuals – bright, fluorescent, and wildly colourful – are a juxtaposition to the darker and more nebulous feel of the record, but even that is an apt reflection of the muddy and foggy natures of sealife. The tracks themselves also evoke certain themes of longing, of uncertainty – of loneliness felt within the miles and miles of the underwater ocean.

![105763](http://dis.resized.images.s3.amazonaws.com/540x310/105763.jpeg)

Wed Aug 15 11:56:30 CEST 2018

69

Pitchfork

Composed by Avey Tare, Geologist, and Deakin, AnCo’s second audiovisual album reckons abstractly with the environmental devastation and the potentially horrifying consequences yet to come.

Thu Aug 16 07:00:00 CEST 2018

40

The Guardian

(Domino)

The international year of the reef, 2018 has brought us dire headlines from the deep. Still, art-meets-science duo Coral Morphologic – AKA marine biologist Colin Foord and musician JD McKay – manage to find not just beauty but hope among jewel-bright branches in their hypnotic, closeup films. Sadly, the soundtrack to their first full visual album with collaborators Animal Collective is a tougher listen than the news. In search, perhaps, of something more profound than the Beach Boys-haunted lo-fi surrealism of early albums, or the fizzing avant-garde electropop that became their calling card after 2009 breakthough album Merriweather Post Pavilion, AC plumb depths of paucity more than subtlety in this wilfully desolate expanse of dispassionate vocals and vague, awkward ambience.

Buffalo Tomato suggests a gentle, subaquatic Suicide, and Hip Sponge offers some almost energetic woodblock, but mostly Tangerine Reef just drifts, without evoking much sense of its subject. A plant-like animal that is both one and many is a tantalising metaphor for environmental commentary, but the dominant feeling here is of enervated human isolation. The extremely testing central pairing of Coral Understanding and Airpipe (To A New Transition) – a disjointed lurch of reedy wheezes and twitter burbles and wet twangs – suggest something a merman Lou Reed might hand in as an attempt to get dropped from his record label. CM’s images are mesmeric, but it’s hard to imagine why you’d listen to this music on its own, except as the austere punishment our species deserves.

Continue reading...

Sun Aug 19 08:00:15 CEST 2018

30

Tiny Mix Tapes

Animal Collective
Tangerine Reef

[Domino; 2018]

Rating: 1.5/5

They were the greatest psych-pop band in the world until they weren’t. You know, back in the Merriweather Post Pavilion days, when Obama was in office and love was in the air. But then something shocking happened: social media became a way of life, and we all became narcissistic and bent on beautifying our cyberspace. Amidst all of that, a bunch of non-guitar-based genres gained prominence in the 2010s. Meanwhile, Animal Collective landed safe on a shore of financial stability and fame, just as the kiddos were throwing away their guitars and replacing them for DAWs. We didn’t realize that Animal Collective had swam out to an island and were impossibly alone and trapped in their musicality, until it was too late. They were stuck out there.


Now this: making music for a film about a coral reef that is also a vessel for climate awareness. Collaborating with Coral Morphologic. 2018 International Year of the Reef. Trump in Office. And Avey Tare, swimming through a cloak of seawater and singing to the reef down below, with that style that we know: like he’s perpetually in the summer, at the end of the day, outside, looking up at some trees, with the same tiredness that kids have when they are wrenched from a nap. You know, that childhood vibe. Like as if he spent half of it as a tadpole or a seahorse. That’s one of the reasons why we love Animal Collective: it’s as if they’re still kindergarteners experimenting with kaleidoscopic visuals while playing with instruments as if those instruments were seesaws, merry-go-rounds, swing sets, slides, chin-up bars, sandboxes, trapeze rings, and mazes. We like it when they freak out, because it reminds us of how much of life should be experienced untamed.

Since half of experiencing Tangerine Reef comes from experiencing the visuals it accompanies, it’s hard for me to really vibe with this album as a complete thing. Really it feels less than that, like a side table, a bed frame, or a pierced hole in an ear with no earring in it. Sure, maybe you’ll be reminded once again of the planet’s fragility. Sure, you’ll be reminded once again of Trump’s denial of said fragility. And yes, Avey Tare’s lyrics, as always, are unburdened by the need to demonstrate knowledge in a way that is quantifiable or provable. But honestly, will we the millenials, upon listening, give a fuck about all of this? Will anyone, for that matter? It’s cool to be in the world by being in the protest by being in awareness of how the reef’s breathing quivers with each wave-pull. No doubt about that. But at the same time, Tangerine Reef is more like the sound of pretending to experience something profound. It’s a lull, a moonlit lull on the banks of the ocean in an off-moment, star-lit and discrete. It feels as if led astray. As if it were a fake ointment. Or adding emptiness to emptiness, secretly.

Yet, accompanying the film made by Coral Morphologic, it makes way more sense. Check it out below:

Mon Sep 17 06:01:02 CEST 2018

30

Tiny Mix Tapes

Animal Collective
Tangerine Reef

[Domino; 2018]

Rating: 1.5/5

They were the greatest psych-pop band in the world until they weren’t. You know, back in the Merriweather Post Pavilion days, when Obama was in office and love was in the air. But then something shocking happened: social media became a way of life, and we all became narcissistic and bent on beautifying our cyberspace. Amidst all of that, a bunch of non-guitar-based genres gained prominence in the 2010s. Meanwhile, Animal Collective landed safe on a shore of financial stability and fame, just as the kiddos were throwing away their guitars and replacing them for DAWs. We didn’t realize that Animal Collective had swam out to an island and were impossibly alone and trapped in their musicality, until it was too late. They were stuck out there.


Now this: making music for a film about a coral reef that is also a vessel for climate awareness. Collaborating with Coral Morphologic. 2018 International Year of the Reef. Trump in Office. And Avey Tare, swimming through a cloak of seawater and singing to the reef down below, with that style that we know: like he’s perpetually in the summer, at the end of the day, outside, looking up at some trees, with the same tiredness that kids have when they are wrenched from a nap. You know, that childhood vibe. Like as if he spent half of it as a tadpole or a seahorse. That’s one of the reasons why we love Animal Collective: it’s as if they’re still kindergarteners experimenting with kaleidoscopic visuals while playing with instruments as if those instruments were seesaws, merry-go-rounds, swing sets, slides, chin-up bars, sandboxes, trapeze rings, and mazes. We like it when they freak out, because it reminds us of how much of life should be experienced untamed.

Since half of experiencing Tangerine Reef comes from experiencing the visuals it accompanies, it’s hard for me to really vibe with this album as a complete thing. Really it feels less than that, like a side table, a bed frame, or a pierced hole in an ear with no earring in it. Sure, maybe you’ll be reminded once again of the planet’s fragility. Sure, you’ll be reminded once again of Trump’s denial of said fragility. And yes, Avey Tare’s lyrics, as always, are unburdened by the need to demonstrate knowledge in a way that is quantifiable or provable. But honestly, will we the millenials, upon listening, give a fuck about all of this? Will anyone, for that matter? It’s cool to be in the world by being in the protest by being in awareness of how the reef’s breathing quivers with each wave-pull. No doubt about that. But at the same time, Tangerine Reef is more like the sound of pretending to experience something profound. It’s a lull, a moonlit lull on the banks of the ocean in an off-moment, star-lit and discrete. It feels as if led astray. As if it were a fake ointment. Or adding emptiness to emptiness, secretly.

Yet, accompanying the film made by Coral Morphologic, it makes way more sense. Check it out below:

Mon Sep 17 06:01:02 CEST 2018