Animal Collective Rekindle the Light on Time Skiffs

During a 2017 Reddit AMA promoting his solo album Eucalyptus, Animal Collective’s primary vocalist David Portner (aka Avey Tare) was asked what his most memorable moment practicing with the group was, answering, “the session where we put ‘Banshee Beat’ together. I just remember us all smiling and feeling like we had something really sweet happening.” Even from an outsider’s perspective, this is easy to understand—Animal Collective’s music has always maintained a heavy focus on the actual process of art-making and the sparks of the divine that flicker in intense moments of creative intimacy. Off 2005’s opus Feels, “Banshee Beat,” a vivid explosion of lovelorn melancholy and catharsis, serves as a reflection of the magic that lived within the band throughout this period. Avey Tare and Panda Bear (Noah Lennox) had both started serious relationships; the band had begun a string of critically acclaimed albums off the back of 2004’s Sung Tongs, and were inventing new ways of incorporating unusual sounds and dimensions into their work, including using the audio of a band member pissing as the opening to a track. Utilizing these new areas of experimentation, Feels functioned as a clear maturation for the band, a shift away from the carefully organized chaos of 2002’s Danse Manatee or the playful exuberance of 2003’s Ark and Campfire Songs, and towards the more traditional pop structures that would come to define their later work.

I have been accused in the past of being over-dramatic about Animal Collective. It’s not necessarily an untrue sentiment, but one that’s easily defended: Few bands have ever been as radically game-changing as Animal Collective managed to be from album to album in the 2000s. With each new era, the group became more fluent in their own developing musical language, tackling themes of nostalgia, divorce and parenthood through powerful drums, hypnotic patterns and plenty of layered, Beach Boys-inspired harmonies. Yet as their star went supernova with 2009’s Merriweather Post Pavilion, their blog-pop-era ubiquity slowly morphed the band’s reputation into a “tries psychedelics once” punchline, as added pressure on the hit album’s follow-up took its toll on the band. With 2012’s Centipede Hz. and 2016’s Painting With, the artistic intensity that makes the band compelling was still present (albeit not as potently), but there was the unmistakable feeling that they were no longer having fun—like the glow that encompassed their earlier work had dimmed, leaving them to make records because they had to, but not from a place of genuine interest.

Throughout this period, the framework of Animal Collective in the public eye shifted dramatically. After exiting the band for Painting With, guitarist Josh Dibb (Deakin) released his solo debut, the staggeringly beautiful Sleep Cycle, while Panda Bear famously collaborated with artists like Daft Punk and Solange, and Avey Tare furthered his solo career with two albums. Their ambitions as Animal Collective started to gear towards scoring visual projects and creating location-based music, until a global pandemic reshaped the way they—and all working musicians—were able to function. Though no strangers to working on music remotely (the original demos for Merriweather were composed over email), the band were met with the challenge of living up to their legacy while facing an uncertain future for the music industry.

The result is Time Skiffs, in which Animal Collective find a way to make peace with the swarms of present-day adulthood anxieties while paying tribute to their past. A far cry from the rushed, electronic dirges of their previous album, Time Skiffs finds the band taking their time and doing what they do best: allowing space, texture and infectious melody to whisk the listener away to various sensory destinations, all with the wisdom and confidence of a group who have weathered life’s storms, and recognize the opportunity for joy and growth that resides within them.

This maturity is recognizable in lead single “Prester John,” a decidedly simple and straightforward song (by Animal Collective standards) that combines the voices of Avey Tare, Panda Bear and Deakin into a powerful harmonic hydra. The melodies are uncomplicated, but the emotional weight lurking behind the song’s groove is omnipresent, making the song’s uplifting lyrics and glittering arpeggios feel not only more impactful, but also deeply intentional.