by John Brouk
A colorful patchwork of eccentric instrumental arrangements and world-weary, world-wise canticles ruminating on life, death, and the otherworldly, Where UFOs Fear to Tread is the newest record from the LA-based, self-proclaimed “underwater pop/ASMR rock” group, The Lentils. The instrumental ensembles employed on this record feel like the charmingly chaotic antics of a one-man band, perhaps a character that might be found in a Jules Verne story. The songs conjure up imagery of a street busking violinist with a big bass drum strapped to their back, miscellaneous percussion on their shoes, and inventive contraptions that allow an assortment of horns, strings, bells, whistles, and other musical oddities to accent what might be called flea market folk rock.
The first of these instruments we hear on album opener “that living edge” is a wavering string section, joined quickly by what sounds like the highest and lowest notes of an old barroom piano playing simultaneously. Stringy guitar lines and a trebled bass, along with a CSNY-like harmony joins the aural array. Passages of avant garde backwards looped guitar/fiddle solos, and wind chimes, foreshadow the album’s varied and multifarious instrumentation. This song ends with a small army of twinkling mandolins that bleeds into the next tune, “i was ready”. The first of the album’s sparse, Euro-folk style dirges, this poetic contemplation of the big inevitable comes with a somewhat morbid refrain of “I did not know I was ready” along with imagery of a truck on fire and “taking a peek to the other side”.
Much like the inventory of an antique mall with its conglomeration of items from different eras and areas of application (vintage clothes living in haphazard harmony next to a shoe box of baseball cards, shelves of collectable cartoon character drinking glasses, hand-knitted tea cozies, a stack of old sports magazines, books, hand tools, truck tires), Where UFOs Fear to Tread is lyrically varied and poetically obscure, yet when viewed as a bigger picture there is a cohesive feeling of nostalgia for the passing of time. Moments both happy and sad. Past friends and lovers. Big significant events and small everyday joys. All of these cohabiting the same awkward space, is somehow an apt allegory to life.
Throughout the record there persists a solemnity and acceptance of mortality. This theme is perhaps displayed most cheekily in “my funeral playlist” in which we get a glimpse into some of the musical influences of The Lentils as they question what songs they would want played at their final affair. Which version of Bob Dylan’s “Girl From the North Country” should be played? Which Beach Boys song? Are the jazz picks too Miles Davis heavy? Should it just be songs written by friends?
The song contains one of the album’s many interesting solos, this one is played on what sounds like a guitar with an extreme amount of fret buzz or maybe it is the traditional Greek string instrument called a bouzoukia. We also hear this same instrument perform a one-note solo on “green lights i have loved”. There are mysterious musical surprises throughout the album like a triumphant, slightly out of tune, Neutral Milk Hotel-type horn arrangement that kicks off “katie please pass the paradigm”. A sinister and cavernous acoustic guitar accompanied by what sounds to be a clinking percussive glass bottle can be found on “one green marker”. A collage of strings, horns, piano, and wind chimes close out “what I owe to the bird in the freezer aisle”.
The album ends with a final nod to the abyss. A narrator seemingly singing from beyond the grave, remembers a lasting friendship that endured time, waxing and waning romances, and saw both parties looking past each other's shortcomings. It is a reminder that the most precious treasures we encounter in life might be the people who stand by us and love us.