If there’s one thing that can be said about Everything Everything’s much-hyped debut, Man Alive, it’s that it was a bit all over the place. At its best, tracks like “MY KZ, UR BF” or “Qwerty Finger” demonstrated Everything Everything’s strength at combining pop, electro, indie rock and some utterly zany vocals into a unique, stirring and strangely beautiful package. At its worst, Everything Everything just sounded disorganized, jagged and not quite sure of itself. Everything Everything was a band with potential, undoubtedly, but it had yet to realize it.
It’s tough to say whether with Arc, nearly two and a half years later, Everything Everything has lived up to its full potential—the album isn’t perfect.
Arc wastes no time in grabbing your attention with “Cough, Cough,” an opener and lead single that’s as spastic and convulsive as, well, a cough. At first listen, it may seem just as irritating, too. Coughing noises, repetitive vocals and a seizure-inducing synth track make for a jarring mix, to say the least. Listeners unfamiliar with Everything Everything, moreover, will need some time to get used to Jonathan Higgs’ signature falsetto yelp. Hidden beneath this superficially over-the-top mix, though, is an exceedingly clever and finely orchestrated pop song with a lot to say, and it serves as the introduction to the lyrical themes that pop up consistently throughout Arc.
Higgs has always had an overt fascination with the scientific and technological, as he’s been barking about things like NASA, Faraday cages, Photoshop, LED screens and cellular division since his band’s inception. Before now, however, these somewhat erratic references never really added up to a cohesive message, and consequently, it felt like the band was merely trying to drive the point home that it was a capital-M “modern” band with a singer who happened to be exceedingly well read.
On Arc, though, this “fascination” with the scientific, the technological and the futuristic has evidently transformed into a definable unease. Whether on the aforementioned “Cough, Cough” (“That Eureka moment hits you like a cop car / And you wake up just head and shoulders in a glass jar”), the anorexic stylings of “Torso of the Week” (“Hollowest cheeks in the county / Time to Tweet”) or the vocal frenzy of “Undrowned” (“Princes fly drones who can see through your bones”), Arc thematically serves as an indictment of the rapid industrialization and reliance on technology in which modern society is caught.
It’s an ironic message coming from a band that uses electronics to get its point across now more than ever. Synths appear consistently throughout, vocal manipulation is frequent and the percussion tracks sound chopped up and computerized. Though there are occasional curves off into the natural (such as on the fantastic Sigur Ros-ian string swell of “Duet,” or the stirring piano-based pseudo-closer “The Peaks”), Arc for the most part maintains an inorganic, metallic aesthetic.
But it’s one that works for them. Arc is peppered with songs that are as sonically engaging and lyrically dynamic as they are computerized. The infectious half-time groove of second track “Kemosabe” is a first-half highlight, while the Passion Pit-esque “Armourland” skillfully transitions from a jagged, chopped-up opening into the most lush, romantic and inviting hook the band’s ever written (“I wanna take you home / Find some new joy in this autopilot land”).
The centerpiece “Un-drowned,” which is based primarily on the interplay between a rapid-fire vocal line and pulsating keyboard triplets, might just be the best track on here. What begins as a prescient observation of the quarrelsome outside world quickly and cleverly builds into a desperate cry for help amidst the chaos of modernity (“I’m in debt, Ma, I’ve waited too long / I thought there was something, I waited for something / Don’t leave, girl, don’t leave”). It’s Higgs’ best vocal performance yet in one of the best songs of the year, and it’ll blow you away.
Arc isn’t uniformly impressive, though. For one, the album feels a bit long, and perhaps is a bit encumbered by one or two too many slow numbers. “The House Is Dust” is a late-album snooze that feels entirely unnecessary. The mid-album neighbors “Choice Mountain” and “Feet for Hands” also feel meandering, and suck a bit of the momentum out of the generally fantastic opening section.
That being said, if there’s one song on here that serves as the Sparknotes to Arc’s sometimes obscure manifesto, look no further than the late-album gem “Radiant,” in which Higgs first presents a world in which “every inch of matter is measured, and every force and element is known,” and asks: In this world of infinite information, where do we look to find novelty, to find beauty? In the final chorus, he provides a retort, shouting “the birth of a child, the sunrise / It’s all I ever had,” with a ferocity and humanity that’ll send shivers down your spine. It’s the most breathtaking moment Arc has to offer, and it’s one that’ll make you return to this song again and again.
Given the album’s underlying message of retaining humanity amidst modernity, and novelty amidst technology, it’s fitting that in spite of having some highly electronic elements and metallic production, Arc’s most memorable moment is also its most undeniably human one.
