Pitchfork

The cover of Quinn Walker's Laughter's an Asshole/Lion Land depicts the artist, horns sprouting from his hairy head with what appears to be rainbow colored flames shooting from his mouth. But is Walker breathing fire, or is this proverbial "Technicolor yawn" in full effect? Walker likely intended the former, but the latter is more apt. After all, Laughter's an Asshole/Lion Land is spread out over two sprawling discs, not as a double but as two albums for the price of one. Yes, Walker's amassed so much music he's basically giving it away-- at least until Walker accumulates still more music to stuff on the next release. That shouldn't be a problem, since listening to these discs it's clear that everything must come out, like a big, messy, cleansing, gut-clearing barf. You think Devendra Banhart is all Id? You ain't heard nothing yet.

And yet Walker's over-the-top approach-- massed vocals, kitchen sink instrumentation-- adequately, even impressively disguises the dearth of actual songs. "Bing Bang Boom", for example, is an ace approximation of Tropicalia, but it's still really just an exercise. Similarly, "Baby Neon", "Up Here the Air Is Fresh and Sweet", and "At the Party, in the Woods" are wacky, whacked-out helium voiced indulgences; the rest of the disc is alternately beautiful, silly, fantastic, goofy, and wonderful mood pieces akin to the Animal Collective axis. It's all so unpredictable, so inherently whimsical, colorful and kaleidoscopic, that it's practically psychedelic by default. The lack of focus is the focus, and on those paradoxical terms it's a pretty wild and wooly success.

That's Laughter's an Asshole, at least. Lion Land is even more homebrew, the kind of catchall that DIY allows and encourages. It makes room for Ween-y ballads like "Save Your Love For Me" and the dreamy pop collision "Heaven With You Tonight", for the 1960s-styled bad trip freakout of "Through the Skull of a Goat" and the symphonic synths of "Let Freedom Ring", and for the harmony-rich, bigger than the Beach Boys swoon of "Warm in the Sun/Worn in the Sun". Whether there's room, or even a need, for all these ideas, all at once, is another matter. These tracks were recorded by Walker, mostly alone, in his bedroom, two years ago, and only recently got issued as this 2xCD trove of a debut. In retrospect, it sounds a little ahead of the curve, or at least perfectly in tune with passing trends. But it also sounds awfully familiar in light of all the likeminded acts proliferating as of late. If an album is novel and original much the same way another album is novel and original, does that mean the album's not really novel and original? Maybe it's best to just follow Walker's example and blaze blindly straight ahead, head held high. Not all winners come in first.