Lending a new meaning to the phrase ‘genre-hopping’, this atrociously-named outfit serve up a thoroughly weird, studiedly eccentric sort of neo-psychedelic stew, fusing elements of prog-rock, electronica and lightweight summertime pop into a multi-faceted concoction that defies all rational explanation. A sprawling octet of Aussies (five lads, three girls), Architecture’s most distinctive feature is their terminal reluctance to linger on any one idea (or even pursue any one tune) for more than half a minute at a stretch, presumably out of terror that they might be conveniently pigeonholed.
Those souls (and there were many) who fell for the Fiery Furnaces might find much to savour here, but despite the undoubtedly impressive array of instrumentation on offer (Hammond organs, Wurlitzers, clarinets, sitars and power tools amidst a whole lot else), there’s a sense that the sum value of If I Should Die is considerably less than its zillion parts originally seem to promise. At its most successful, the octet displays a keen understanding of music’s infinite multiplicity of possibilities. Unfortunately, most of us like to be moved as well as impressed, and with all the best will in the world, much of the disc can be safely dismissed as a pretentious, over-reaching, meandering mess.
Whatever else, If I Should Die is an extremely ambitious and intermittently interesting disc, but it’s also unforgivably sloppy and unfocused. AIH’s profound case of attention-deficit disorder often creates an effect similar to that achieved by channel-hopping manically through after-hours television. Vague Pet Sounds tendencies, though clearly detectable, don’t add enough beauty to mitigate the confusion and vaulting over-ambition. It may be that I’m missing out on something absolutely wonderful as a result of youthful over-exposure to Bo Diddley and The Ramones, but nobody ever died from musical narrow-mindedness. I implore you to look elsewhere for kicks. One, two, three, four…