Foals - Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost - Part 1


Whilst I can't boast the most extensive listening history of all time, I do admit it is odd that this is the first Foals album I've listened to completely. A brief dislike of the band formed on an incredibly shallow level way back in the 2000s, when Never Mind the Buzzcocks reigned supreme and NME were still capable of setting trends rather than limply following them, seemed to focus on frontman Yannis Philippakis esoteric style and aloof weirdness that I found all too draining to deem the band worth a listen. It would appear, four albums later, that I was harsh and unfair.

Whether it was recently working in Oxford - Foals' hometown - or something else, their fifth album - part one of a duo to be released in 2019, apparently - is a breath of fresh air and something I've found immensely enjoyable this past month or so. There's something of a renaissance for bands of Foals' ilk lately, with the likes of the Horrors, MGMT and Everything Everything all maturing from incredibly trendy, must-be-seen-listening-to-them bands into reliable, layered artists with each album seemingly growing in heft.


It could be argued this is a concept album: the rich world they portray in openers 'Moonlight' and 'Exits' suggest an eye-opening experience, and musically too it feels like stepping into somewhere else. Birdsong, echoing synths (that don't sound too dissimilar to Booka Shade's Body Language) and electronic harps all conspire to create something enchanting and yet also daunting. Coupled with Exits' natural hooks and a tale of "underground cities", "black skies" and people "watching us in our sleep", it's one of the strongest openings to an album I've heard in a while. 'White Onions' continues this sense of loss and exploration with a literal maze, set to a frenetic math-rock backdrop and Philippakis' droning, repetitive lyrics.

Much can be made of the grander themes tackled in their lyrics, but musically the band fluctuates just as intriguingly: 'In Degrees' is an LCD Soundsystem-inspired call to the dancefloor that deals with a failing relationship / planet, depending on how you look at it, whilst 'Syrups' dials completely back and serves a slow, stomping swagger that warns us about impending robots and overlords as it accelerates. 'On the Luna' sounds the closest to the sort of material I'd have associated with Foals in the past; a catchy, indie-disco affair that bemoans the amount of Trump shit we all have to hear about whilst offering a convincing distraction. But 'Cafe D'Athens' on the other hand is something I'd have not expected, a generous platter of percussion (recorded in France with various marimba and vibraphone players) and piercing sirens.

By the end of the record we are left quite literally shattered: 'Sunday' is a gorgeous way to describe burning cities, a failing ecosystem and ultimate apocalypse. "Our fathers run and leave all the damage they've done behind" they sing all too soothingly, whilst later refraining "the birds are all singing: it's the end of the world" in the same sort of manner you'd expect to wave your fist along to Born Slippy. Closer 'I'm Done With the World (& It's Done With Me)' captures an ominous, yet serene moment of domestic hopelessness. "The hedges are on fire in the country lanes" is sang in a tone that should prompt Breaking News alerts on our phones rather than perhaps a call to the local council - it's all sung so morosely.


Right now the only complaint I could possibly make of this is that there's not enough of it, and surely that's set to be remedied with a literal 'Part 2' due in Autumn. There is quite a shift of tone between the first and latter halves of the album and it's not necessarily seamless, but the world built (and destroyed?) here is bewitching enough not to notice it. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to listen to their other four and scold myself for being such a fool.

Rating: 8.5/10
Highlights: Exits, In Degrees, On the Luna, I'm Done With the World (& It's Done With Me), Sunday
Avoid: n/a

For fans of: Black Mirroresque British coping mechanisms of horror, albums that end with a piano ballad, dead foxes.

Coming next: Sigrid

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