When Car Seat Headrest released Making a Door Less Open in 2020, it was met with polarizing reactions from fans and critics alike. The Will Toledo-led band, which is known for its infectious hooks and anthemic lyrics, instead made a darker, electronic-focused record with easily forgettable songs and songwriting that paled in comparison to fan-favorite albums like Teens of Denial and Twin Fantasy. Questionable decisions, such as including a satirical rap about Hollywood, were difficult to forgive, too. MADLO exposed the cracks in Toledo’s long-held title as one of contemporary indie rock’s best talents, making fans wonder how Car Seat Headrest would move on from the blunder. Thankfully, the band’s follow-up, The Scholars, proves they’ve grown from past mistakes, making this their best record since their 2018 reworked version of Twin Fantasy.
While Making a Door Less Open was a swing and a miss, The Scholars takes calculated risks as an ambitious rock opera, drawing as much inspiration from Tony Orlando and Dawn’s album Candida as it does from Mozart’s The Magic Flute. Here, Toledo takes the focus off himself, instead following the stories of the students and faculty of the fictional Parnassus University. With a Canterbury Tales-like narrative, The Scholars weaves together a story uncovering the mystifying happenings of the fantasy realm that Toledo created. Each song is about a different character, with this slew of personalities including Beolco, a student who believes he has spiritual ties to the university’s founder, a famed playwright known as the Scop; Devereaux, the son of a religious conservative, who has enrolled in the Clown College bordering Parnassus University and wrestles with his sexuality; and Rosa, a medical student who realizes she has regained powers she possessed as a child of bringing the deceased back to life, drawing attention from sinister beings.
The Scholars opens with “CCF (I’m Gonna Stay With You),” a gripping introduction to Beolco’s story. Pairing frenetic bongos with distorted guitar tones, the krautrock-inspired instrumentation evokes euphoric emotions that the character feels as he is finally where he believes he belongs. “I’m a stranger saying hi / To moments in life when I feel alive,” Toledo sings as Beolco, before promising his allegiance to the spirit of the Scop. The track leads the way for one of the standouts of the record, “Devereaux.” Praying to his late grandfather and namesake for guidance, Devereaux’s pleas come in the form of a hypnotic melody with bouncy riffs. It’s one of Car Seat Headrest’s first true singalongs in seven years.
Toledo and his bandmates have never shied away from displaying their influences. The Scholars, however, is a masterclass in how to pay homage to the musicians who shape your sound without creating a carbon copy of their work—a lesson many of the band’s contemporaries still haven’t learned from. A prime example of putting this in action is the three-song run of the album’s longest tracks: “Gethsemane,” “Reality,” and “Planet Desperation,” each taking influence from ’70s rock.
“Gethsemane,” which was chosen as the lead single, is an epic, nearly 11-minute-long track about Rosa and her “lizard brain” fighting for control. With synths and riffs that would sound at home in the Who’s Who’s Next, the bright, effervescent sounds from the British classic rock icons’ 1971 record are interpreted as a way to escalate tension, turning those flourishes into something eerier while paired with the organ.
On the other hand, “Planet Desperation,” which is the longest Car Seat Headrest song to date, spanning nearly 19 minutes, gives drummer Andrew Katz his moment to shine on vocals, with a booming, theatrical delivery that contrasts with guitarist Ethan Ives, bassist Seth Dalby, and Toledo’s Beach Boys-inspired harmonies. While the Beach Boys’ doo-wop-inspired vocals were meant to bring a certain cheeriness to songs, Toledo uses them almost as a Greek chorus’ cries, as Hyacinth, the dean of Parnassus’ Liberal Arts school, delves into the aftermath of his own death during a battle between the clown school and the Parnassus campus. The track also serves as a callback to “Gethsemane,” shifting momentarily from the Beach Boys-like harmonies to a Who-style guitar solo before settling back into a melody that would have been at home on Smiley Smile.
Meanwhile, “Reality,” which features Ives on lead vocals and takes inspiration from David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust era, is shimmery yet solemn, soundtracking the apparent demise of the Chanticleer, a narrator of sorts. Similar to Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust character from his own 1972 rock opera The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, the ghost of the Chanticleer feels that his role as a savior of sorts has failed. But Toledo uses this track to self-reference as well, with an unknown character (who could be interpreted as Toledo’s own conscience) admitting that he missed the calls for caution of the dangers to come: “I got bored of all this /And didn’t listen / Didn’t listen / Muttering ‘BLID’ to make it through the next twelve minutes.” This calls back to Twin Fantasy‘s “Beach Life-In-Death,” in which Toledo, then a student at the College of William and Mary, wrote about ignoring warning signs about the ramifications of one of his first romances after coming to terms with his sexuality. Its mention in “Reality” could be interpreted as Toledo’s way of saying he’s staying true to himself, taking the reins of his life and career, returning to the confidence as a songwriter he felt when he was self-releasing albums on Bandcamp without concerns about a wider audience.
Placing these three longest tracks back to back is a risk that pays off. Rather than feeling like a slog, the triad is the main highlight of the album, making these some of the best songs this iteration of the band has made. We perhaps owe this to the more collaborative effort of the group in The Scholars. Rather than Toledo being the sole songwriter and mastermind behind each track, Ives, who has been in the band since 2015, holds co-songwriting credits with Toledo. His contribution in “Reality” is felt, not just with him taking on vocals but in seamlessly combining his own writing style with the bandleader’s. You get a sense that, rather than Toledo running the show, each member brings vital contributions, making Car Seat Headrest stronger than ever as a collective.
Having witnessed the album being performed in its entirety at New York City’s The Bitter End in February, it was evident that not only does the band feel immensely proud of this record, but they’re genuinely having so much fun playing these songs. The Scholars sounds brilliant in the recording, but even better live. This album might not be exactly what fans have been waiting for. Its narrative is complex and, at times, cryptic. While Toledo’s own coming-of-age songwriting that propelled Car Seat Headrest to fame isn’t present, with no anthemic choruses about struggling with depression, ill-fated romances, or coming to terms with your identity, we instead get a better gift: an invitation into Toledo’s fantasy world, full of magic and mystery. You’ll want to linger in it a bit longer and get lost in it.
Tatiana Tenreyro is Paste‘s associate music editor, based in New York City. You can also find her writing at SPIN, NME, PAPER Magazine, The A.V. Club, and other outlets.
