Foals - What Went Down

Pitchfork 67

Unlike Foals’ two previous albums, What Went Down does not require a drawn-out introduction to explain its intentions. "Blue Blood" captured the surprising progression of Total Life Forever in miniature, slowly evolving from the pinging, prickly riffs that defined Antidotes to a cloudbursting crescendo. By 2013's Holy Fire, Foals were a legitimate arena act and acted like they've been there before, hence, the four-minute, crowd-stoking "Prelude". At this point, Foals have nothing left to prove—they are a big-ticket rock band until further notice, so the opening title track of What Went Down gets right to it with blunt-force, pitch-shifted riffs and Yannis Philippakis promising that you’re gonna hype him up and make him catch a body like that: "So don’t step to me kid, you’ll never be found."

The lyrical aggression is curious, but the confidence is warranted—after planning on an extended hiatus after Holy Fire, What Went Down came together in relatively quick fashion after something "clicked" during preliminary sessions. No surprise that they’re locked in, as Foals are basically a genre of one at this point. This appears more obvious when you consider the bands who’ve ascended to their level in the UK over the past few years; if they’re not adhering to the most obvious NME-bait lad-rock template, they’re following some kind of obvious precedent. Meanwhile, Foals have mastered an arena-funk hybrid that others have only touched on—post-Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me Cure when they wanted to be silly, latter day Red Hot Chili Peppers when they wanted to be serious.

But unlike those bands, Foals aren’t fronted by a self-fashioned icon. The presumptive medley of "London Thunder" and "Lonely Hunter" find Philippakis jetsetting between gigs and considering the ocean as a reflection of his emotional emptiness, the first time he’s directly addressed what it means to be The Guy in Foals. But while Foals are considered the "thinking person’s alternative" to most mainstream UK guitar bands by default, the knuckle-dragging of the title track and "Snake Oil" isn’t that much more cerebral than Royal Blood or Drenge. More often, Foals are a "feeling person’s alternative"—"Mountain at My Gates" and "Birch Tree" are defined by an all-purpose spiritual and/or romantic longing and spacious production, meaning they’re walking the same path as Coldplay ca. X&Y with more pep in their step. What Went Down revels in lurid imagery—love is a gun in Philippakis’ hand, he runs through the streets bloodied from a fistfight, his heart is an old pole dancer and an old black panther.

In that regard, What Went Down feels like the completion of an unplanned trilogy—Total Life Forever embraced commitment, Holy Fire yearned for liberation, and this is Philippakis recoiling from the blowback. "Give It All" initially comes off like an inert songwriting exercise in lyrical juxtaposition, before Philippakis cleverly twists the title into an ironic burn ("Give me the time but not an age/ Give me the look but not the rage...you give me it all"). But by "Lonely Hunter", the tables have turned on Philippakis—he gets lost in foreign cities and makes perfunctory late night calls, only to get back and recognize how it’s not the same as being there ("why must I wait in line for what is mine?").

It’s not a particularly unique viewpoint, though it’s unique in relation to other Foals records. In fact, it’s about the only way to truly distinguish What Went Down from Holy Fire and Total Life Forever. There are superficial differences in aggression—slightly more electronic buzzing, harsher vocals, gristly guitars. It’s Foals’ raw record, but it’s still filet mignon tartare, as raw as you can get when your producer’s two other gigs in 2015 were Florence and the Machine and Mumford & Sons.

Otherwise, What Went Down is the latest example of Foals’ uncanny ability to make records whose basic musical trajectory and quality are nearly equal regardless of the band's intentions going in. And What Went Downis their most consistent, steady-handed work yet—the distance between their purest pop moments ("Miami", "My Number") and their opulent ballads ("Spanish Sahara") has virtually disappeared. It's also significantly less exciting than Total Life Forever and Holy Fire, dynamic records because of their unevenness and ambitious strain—while Foals have realized a sound that's truly their own, they sound far too comfortable in it.