The Rolling Stones did it with 1969's "Let It Bleed" and 1971's "Sticky Fingers" (you could also, obviously, toss in 1972's "Exile on Main Street"). The Flaming Lips out-weirdo-ed themselves with 1999's "The Soft Bulletin" and 2002's "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots." Even Paramore managed a sleeper take of this rare creative feat with 2007's "Riot!" and 2009's "Brand New Eyes." Taken as pairs, these records elevated singularly joyous moments into a grander narrative about an artist's life.
Into this eternal discussion I'd like to offer up Phantogram's first two LPs: February 2010’s “Eyelid Movies” and February 2014’s “Voices.”
The duo of Sarah Barthel and Josh Carter struck veritable gold with both. Individually, either record captures peak winter vibes. Together, though, they constitute a transcendent (and fleeting, it turned out) musical moment for the band. The albums are sonic siblings, both born of this infectious, glitchy melding of pop, hip-hop and electronica, made unmistakable by Barthel’s lush emoting and Carter’s sturdy production. Dig deeper, and you'll find an even more robust, textured arc between the two albums.
Discovering “Eyelid Movies” mere days after its release felt like the sort of singular discovery that the truly geeky chase in perpetuity. The clear standout, “Mouthful of Diamonds,” is titled perfectly, a shimmery dance-pop song augmented by trip-hop production that cuts hard and deep. The rest of the record follows a similar albeit nuanced musical approach. The band expertly toe the line between sounds dense and airy, evocative and shiver-inducing.
“Turn it Off,” for instance, shines brighter with neo-soul highlights but has the same kind of heft and crunchy texture. “Running from the Cops” offer immaculate vibes as Barthel and Carter channel an alt-world Beck. If you want sensuality atop all that trip-hop noise, “10,000 Claps” is jazz for a modern, discerning crowd.
“Eyelid Movies” knows itself from the very first smash of drums in “Mouthful of Diamonds.” Barthel and Carter painted themselves as experimentalists and retro-archivists, splitting the difference between past and present, pop and electronic in a way that felt refreshing in its earnestness. Every influence constitutes a thread in this LP's tapestry. The record plays with our senses and hearts as the duo pull and prod each new song into a distinct but connected artifact. Phantogram weave a patchwork of sketches and sonic plays that outline their musical explorations and reveal the band's core.
While they’ve developed artistically ever since, their debut is Phantogram at their most inventive and downright mesmerizing. Even some 15 years removed, “Eyelid Movies” feels both of a time and this still-lively organism imbued with an unwavering curiosity.
Four years later the duo reconvened for 2014’s “Voices." That record is very much when Phantogram made some proper noise career-wise, and yet its value isn’t just about chart positions and placements in "The Originals" on CW. No, it’s that “Voices” represents the best kind of maturation from Barthel and Carter in expertly extending their eclectic pop transmissions.
The lead track, “Nothing But Trouble” is an electro-pop slow-burner that swings with 100 open palms. “Fall in Love,” a standout on the aforementioned charts, is a pure pop hit, even as it manages layers and intrigue galore. But Phantogram are no mere would-be pop band. “Bill Murray” plays with ambient sounds while “My Only Friend” blends neo-R&B and brash indie rock.
The arc of any band worth a damn is growth; to stagnate between releases is insta-death. Phantogram grew in all the right ways. They became more aligned as a duo; they allowed certain influences or ideas to stand on their own; they got bigger and bolder without feeling overworked; and they maintained that small-band charm and romanticism with gusto. They developed collectively as well as individually, with Barthel soaring as a multifaceted presence while Carter found his voice on the board. “Voices” isn’t just incremental growth. It represents the kind of measured risks and practiced inventiveness that makes bands feel novel and important.
Yet this relationship is so much more than sonic decision-making or creative ideas. It's easily observed in the lyrics of both "Eyelid Movies" and "Voices." Phantogram's debut felt more like abstract poetry, with lines like "Lucy's underground / She's got a mouth to feed" (from "When I'm Small"). That tone and feel fits their early development as oddball romanticists focused on abstract experiences. These same "fragments" feel perfect suited within the more intricate soundscapes.
By the time "Voices" came around, they shifted into compositions like "I can't find the heart to lead / Cause the knife is out / The feeling that I had / Was all because you said" (from the title track). But it's no over-explanation or a loss of their initially punchy qualities. Rather, they felt and saw more, and needed a channel to express that with the same grace and power. In adding more words and playing with the poetry of their expressions, Phantogram once more respected where they'd been and had found ways to grow that always felt charming and thoughtful.
Be it significant or subtle tweaks (always depending on the song), Phantogram understood the important groundwork laid with their debut and respected its vision and scope as they stared down the future. “Voices” was certainly more complex, but Phantogram never asked more from listeners than they could handle. In return, you got a record you could continually rediscover for years to come.
An experience for the ears and soul
The big question, then, becomes why any of this matters whatsoever. Aside from the sheer quality of these two albums, how does that make this run so significant? Because the “Eyelid Movies” to ”Voices” run is a snapshot of Phantogram at their most utterly human. Their third album, the obviously-titled “Three,” is a rather noticeable leap toward the mainstream. It’s got more dancey hooks, a series of remixes by the likes of A-Trak and The Range and generally the unwavering sense that the band wanted something bigger still for themselves and their prospects.And, sure, there’s nothing wrong with growing a band's career and prospects, but “Three” is a product of a group that's actively making changes and adjustments to achieve a specific goal beyond music. It’s an obvious enough effort, and even if you enjoy it thoroughly (which you should), you can’t deny that it insists upon itself to some level. It’s growth of a different sort, a kind that separates bands from where they were to some seemingly unavoidable future in the land of big pop music.
Think about it this way: if you want to see just how big Phantogram got, look at Big Boi. After some early collaborations, the Outkast MC teamed with the duo for 2015's "Big Grams." The EP not only made noise on Twitter and the blog-o-sphere, but it cemented the two "eras" of Phantogram, and how the pair had become this festival-roaming, headline-nabbing pop machine. A totally due career bump, but one that illustrated how they'd wowed us from the peripheral.
Phantogram's first two records never once feel like that, and the direction and movement from one to the other feels like we’re almost in on the whole experience. It's as if Phantogram have made their growth something we all shared with and pooled into back then, and that they were engaging and guiding us across these records. It was clear that they knew about incrementality and being carefully measured as they built up a fanbase with a less definitive purpose.
In spreading their wings in this reserved but demonstrative way on those first two records, they were making their development a public affair. You may hear small-but-mighty changes between “Eyelid Movies” and “Voices,” but that’s only because we could feel and know Phantogram with a true intimacy and depth, as if we were dating someone new or finding a fresh traveling companion. Once you’re in on the whole experience, those tweaks and shifts feel all the more daring and potent because they're like the nuanced discoveries of any proper relationship.
It’s this kind of familial approach that has earned Phantogram a loyal following, and even as they moved in other, often more accessible directions post-"Three," none of that diminishes their debut offerings. It’s likely something most fans don’t think about, and they happily followed Barthel and Carter deeper and deeper into the dancefloor. As they should, since Phantogram have always placed fans squarely in their creative process, even if that process may have shifted noticeably.
For fans like yours truly, the growth spurt that is “Three” only makes their first two LPs more special; as if they held on as long as possible to some fleeting indie rock dreams, only to let go when their talent and charm demanded the move. Even in that scenario, Phantogram remain deeply relatable. They earned their stripes through organic displays and earnest connection.
Even if they’re selling out larger venues, the true power of Phantogram resides in those two early albums. Speaking of selling out shows, The Van Buren is clearly a great venue for their first headlining set in a few years. Sure, they'll likely be playing stuff from last year's "Memory of a Day," but those two LPs could easily emerge in part across the setlist. ("Memory" definitely deserves the focus/attention as the newer, decidedly psychedelic influences add a more intense, poignant layer to Phantogram.) Even a lesser cut like the "All Dried Up" (from "Eyelid Movies") would imbue the evening with an intimacy and magic to remind folks of how Phantogram won most of us over in the first place.
Those early records form one giant experience, like a conversation that takes all night and grows ever more wonderful and life-affirming. You can play both as you want. For me, spinning the records back-to-back unlocks Phantogram’s magic. They’re hungry innovators who build musical creatures with spare parts and big emotions. They’re focused and deliberate as much as they are endlessly hungry and a little dramatic and rowdy. Mostly, they’re daring musicians inviting us in on their weird pop experiments.
Now run back both albums and see how Phantogram make dreamy movies for your ears.
Phantogram. 8 p.m. Sunday, Jan. 19. The Van Buren, 401 W. Van Buren St. Tickets are $60.50. Visit thevanburenphx.com.
