The finely polished sentimental pop
Devendra Banhart drifted through on 2019's
Ma was far removed from the shaky and mystical folk songs he recorded on answering machines 15 years earlier or even the disjointed tangents he stitched together a few years prior on 2016's
Ape in Pink Marble. Though he's since dabbled in
Grateful Dead covers and ambient expressions,
Flying Wig,
Banhart's first proper studio album in four years, takes his art in yet another new direction. Produced by
Cate Le Bon (whose production has also guided some of the more adventurous output from
Deerhunter,
Wilco, and much of her own solo catalog), the album's ten songs veer between misty soundscapes, synth-driven pop, and moments of moody cinematic tension. The blend of Berlin-era
Bowie instrumentation and dreamy city pop that showed up on
Le Bon's
Pompeii gets applied to tracks like the lush, late-night ramble "Fireflies," with distant saxophones and chorus-bathed guitar leads melting into one another. The wobbly bass line and scattershot percussion of "Nun" also evoke this wild spirit, as
Banhart's vocals cruise through a strange circuit board of sweetly chaotic interlocking melodies. The whimsy and abandon that ran through so much of his earliest work is replaced with a cool, almost standoffish presence on the nearly deadpan synth pop atmospheres of tracks like "Sight Seer" or the funky midtempo lurching of "Twin." That's not to say
Flying Wig is devoid of emotion. The darkly tender "Sirens" is as yearning and wounded as some of
Banhart's most heart-baring songs, but he broadcasts these feelings from a removed distance, making the listener dig a little deeper to connect. Some of his inherent silliness surfaces here and there as well, especially when he's singing lovelorn, childlike melodies about losing a phone charger on the deeply
Eno-indebted "Charger." The pairing of
Le Bon's netherworld production and
Banhart's malleable talents makes
Flying Wig a weird and enjoyable ride. It's a whole new spectrum of sounds and ideas for
Banhart, but it fits as one more chapter in his oft-mutating muse. ~ Fred Thomas