Inflorescent

It's an impressive return. [Sep 2019, p.111]

It’s true that any album this laced with optimism is bound to feel slightly blinkered in the current climate – but by burying their heads in the sand, Friendly Fires prove they can be a much-needed source of release once again.

This skillful balance of consistency and surprises -- as well as the past, present, and future of dance, indie, and pop -- makes Inflorescent a more than welcome return.

It can sometimes seem as though Friendly Fires are playing catch up for a post-EDM scene that largely sprung up in their absence. The cooing vocals and build-up/drop patterns grow a little tiring across the album despite their careful production, because they’re working in well-trodden territory in a post-Flume landscape. But there is a winning warmth to their music.

This is as tropical and kaleidoscopic as Friendly Fires have ever been. It’s akin to gobbling an entire pack of Fruit Pastilles; colourful, maybe a little sickly, but you sure as hell want to experience it again.

Their creative fires are clearly burning again, even though it feels like this album had to be exorcised for them to fully ignite in the future.

There a few moments on Inflorescent where the tone changes lightly. The downbeat "Cry Wolf" still slinks along atop a funky bassline, but its minor key momentarily pivots the focus from dancing your problems away to just straight up crying about them. These mild digressions never quite cohere into anything substantial though, and for the most part it's just a lighthearted rush. Needless to say, it's an album best digested in morsels.

Rather than imitating 2011, Inflorescent instead brings to mind the summer of 2013, overwhelmed as it is by a neutered disco-funk sound reminiscent of Daft Punk’s inescapable “Get Lucky”. Only rarely as catchy.