I don’t care what anyone says: This is my favorite Fiery Furnaces album. This is the one I keep coming back to. The one that stays with me. The one that constantly surprises me. And for better or worse, due to the critical and fan reaction to this album, it’s surely to be the only one of its kind.
I know it’s a very different listening experience from their other albums. There aren’t any “songs” in the traditional sense. The music careens all over the place, with little rhyme or reason. It’s hard to tell when one “song” ends and another begins. It’s mostly a spoken word experience and Olga Sarantos’ voice takes some getting used to. The “story” makes little sense. And you certainly can’t sing along. All of that is true and all of those are all pluses in my book.
I love the other FF albums, but they seem a little detached to me compared to this gem. RMC is a firsthand account of the Friedberger’s grandmother’s life, so it has an emotional weight to it that the other albums lack. We hear fantastic tales (e.g. a doctor who heals with donut ingredients), heartbreaking tales (e.g. a grandmother lamenting her granddaughter’s wild childhood), comic tales (e.g. the bitter rivalry between the grandmother and the local bishop), and elegiac tales (the death of Sarantos’ husband). All these are told seemingly at random and are backed by some of the most daring music the FF have ever created.
Sometimes the surreal can say more about life than realism can. (Technically, this album may not be “surreal” but it’s the best word I can come up with at the moment.) The best surreal art, through its unexpected juxtapositions and dreamlike imagery, transcends logic and shines a mystical light on reality, newly illuminating some facet of existence. Of course, it’s a fine line between a surreal work that’s thrilling and one that’s just plain confusing. And some may argue that RMC is just that. But for me, somehow it all hangs together. No matter how crazy some of the musical and narrative segues are, it works. And it consistently astonishes.
There aren’t too many recordings I can think of that reach the same dizzying heights as RMC. The Beautiful Hangman’s Daughter by the Incredible String Band and the early Firesign Theatre albums are the only two I can think of. Note that those examples are from the late 60s / early 70s, along with Bunuel’s The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie and Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America. Perhaps the time for this kind of art has passed. But I hope not.
If you’ve previously dismissed RMC, give it a second chance. Think of it as a wonderfully bizarre radio play. You may discover hours upon hours of joy. And sorrow.
“Listen to this tune that I’m playing for you now, kids. Does it seem sad? Does it remind you of when?”
Check out this cool video of Eleanor Friedberger and Olga Santos, being interviewed by Matt Friedberger about this album.
Leave a comment