Eucalyptus

It’s beautiful and playful and spiritual and full of soul, like their earlier work was. If you miss the aughts-era AC’s handcrafted, bitter-sweet-sour jamborees at all, you’ll want to check Eucalyptus out.

What’s also new about this particular Dave Portner is that the overflow of ideas, lyrics, and themes doesn’t turn spastic and blurry like it has on records past. Eucalyptus, though adventurous, is down to earth and focused. It’s by far the most spiritual Avey Tare has ever sounded (except for the transcendent love on AnCo staple ‘Fireworks’).

Though it lacks the electrifying newness of the Sung Tongs era, Eucalyptus is nonetheless a success. It is a patient, reflective, and decidedly low-key work, one that seems content to thrum along in its own corner of the universe without much regard for whether anyone’s there to receive its generous gifts.

Avey Tare’s stream of vanishing sounds, creaking floorboards, and silently intonated lullabies is romantic in its faded resemblance to our radiant, ever-growing environment; but as with Portner’s newly adopted city of Los Angeles, the supposed nature exists purely as an extension of the human desire to create and actualize what we see in our minds.

Eucalyptus is a carefully constructed illusion of random perceptions, an apparently scattered psyche coming together beautifully. [Aug 2017, p.102]

His latest album still resembles Animal Collective, but in a way that feels invigorating rather than tired.

It’s undoubtedly Avey’s best solo work to date, and another welcome reminder of Animal Collective’s ability to rejuvenate, surprise and delight.

Eucalyptus finds Portner going back-to-basics, taking listeners on a psychedelic but steady trip over 15 tracks with atmospheric and shifting samples ("Lunch Out of Order" Pt. 1 and 2), Sung Tongs-style guitar work ("Jackson 5," "PJ" and opener "Season High") and spaced-out instrumentation (the twisted "Boat Race" and lo-fi drone of "Dr aw one").

Though its songs are lightly augmented with overdubs and outside voices, as well as the faintest outlines of orchestrations from Eyvind Kang, Eucalyptus retains its air of bedroom intimacy.

At just over an hour, Eucalyptus is a bit too sprawling, and could have probably been pruned comfortably in half. This may have made it a little bit more accessible and coherent, but given Avey Tare’s boundary pushing mindset, this probably would have missed the point.

Eucalyptus is the work of an artist in control of his creative forces, able to bring to light the most sensitive and natural feelings and emotions a person can experience.

Your enjoyment of this record almost completely depends on if it sounds good to you in writing. If a slowly moving, patient, and weird Avey Tare record sounds appealing, it almost assuredly will be; for the masses, however, some sections may register as too playfully weird.

It's hard to imagine the album's latent pacing and fragmented lyrical content piquing the interest of many outside of AnCo's hardcore fanbase, but it stands as a compelling step forward. [No. 145, p.61]

Odd tracks recall Animal Collective, but these immersive 63 minutes mostly ripple with hallucinatory effect, overdubs virtually free of beats. [Sep 2017, p.92]

Audacious, cryptic and meandering, Eucalyptus is both brilliant and infuriating, thanks mainly to the Animal Collective man’s refusal to ditch the half-formed workouts that litter this LP.

Eucalyptus is a dense and challenging listen, but while it might alienate post-‘Merriweather Post Pavilion’ converts to Animal Collective, it might bring back those who loved ‘Campfire Songs’ but have felt disenfranchised since.

With a playing time of over an hour, and a reflective, more often than not formless complexion, even acknowledging its subtle whimsy and California roots, Eucalyptus goes by like a long drive through the plains, rewarding the patient and attentive.

While Eucalyptus is undoubtedly intriguing, it’s only occasionally enjoyable as music.

The result is a disjointed, jarring mix of washy atmospherics, bleary electronics and half-baked songs. [Sep 2017, p.23]