Nathan Michel: The Beast
Sonig/Skipp

First off, ignore Jason Forrest's (Donna Summer) claim that “Nathan Michel deserves to be regarded in the company of Brian Wilson” as such hyperbole invites comparisons between Pet Sounds' creator and Michel that hardly flatter the latter; it's better to hear The Beast's ten enchanting pieces free from the weight of such bloated claims. Forrest's right about one thing though. Michel's music is both complex—sometimes ridiculously so—and listenable, abrim with sparkling arrangements (“Planet,” for example, features a spellbinding sonic cornucopia of marimbas, wood flutes, and plinkety-plunk pianos) and the joy that comes from the abundant pleasures of music-making.

Galaxies removed from your prototypical laptop terrorist, Michel is a Ph.D. composition fellow at Princeton University and has studied with no less a figure than Holland's premiere composer Louis Andriessen; Michel also has two prior albums to his credit, the Tigerbeat6 releases abc def (2002) and Dear Bicycle (2003). But whatever classical dimension his music possesses is submerged below the smooth pop surface of his light-hearted songs. While the quirky compositional quality of the earlier albums invited references to Frank Zappa among others, the latest one suggests a handful of others. So while compositionally, Michel is hardly Brian Wilson's equal, instrumentally one discerns commonalities. The harmonica and glockenspiels at the start of “Ram” recall the rococo style embraced by Van Dyke Parks and Wilson in their ‘60s collaborations. In addition, The Beast strongly evokes the folk-prog sound of early Genesis in its less epic, acoustic moments; “Dust” even suggests a medieval-folk fusion of Gentle Giant and Jethro Tull.

Michel's music approximates the sound of a toy orchestra; sometimes it sounds as if he threw instruments into the air and recorded the sounds in the order of their landing, while at other times the material resembles an odd ‘60s-styled lounge trio. Interestingly, his music is rooted in acoustic sounds (guitars, piano, moog, glockenspiel, drums, organ, marimba, and melodica, all played by Michel) with each recorded separately, then edited, processed, and arranged using computer. Digital treatments are generally inconspicuous, though, except for the woozy key shifts and tempo stutters in “Planet” and cut-up effects in “Suds.” He sings on many songs too though his soft vocals are best broached as simply another instrument in the mix, and is joined to good effect on two songs by Amber Papini.

Sometimes the album turns overly complex (“Simple Animal,” for instance, goes through so many changes it sacrifices coherence and “Status Drive” is similarly mercurial). Elsewhere, a more restrained approach more satisfyingly emphasizes Michel's strengths. The bucolic “Ermasel” impresses most during its sparsely arranged acoustic intro but even better is the title song, a memorable folk-ballad featuring a languid mix of marimbas, shakers, acoustic guitars, and electric piano alongside Michel's high-pitched vocals.

April 2005