In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Langue disponible : anglais

Few, if any, other albums in the entire history of indie rock swing this hard without veering off the rails and are this overtly colorful and imbued with wonder while still maintaining a sense of emotional poignancy. For a genre that’s largely been a platform for personal introspection and reality-based musings, In The Aeroplane Over the Sea was, and still is, a fantastical outlier. Consider the style of indie rock that was similarly popular at the time: the slipshod mutterings of Pavement, the abstract meanderings of Built to Spill, the heartbroken poetry of the Silver Jews, and the manic ramblings of Modest Mouse.

On this record, Jeff Mangum eschews all of those writing styles to invoke Jesus Christ and World War II-era history and fuses that with the surrealist imagery of a Lewis Carroll novel. The album has held up so well partly because it’s a fairytale that begs to be deconstructed, but Mangum sings with a directness that makes you second-guess every interpretation, creating a self-fulfilling reason to replay.

Musically, the record manages to translate its lyrical absurdity into sound, merging the intimate directness of folk with punchy fuzz-rock and adorning that with a music teacher’s arsenal of charming instruments (flugelhorn, accordion, organs, bagpipes, and more). The album never abandons the foundation of melody to get psychedelic like The Flaming Lips, but it’s also just a little too kooky to comfortably hang with twee contemporaries like Yo La Tengo and The Magnetic Fields. Over 20 years since its release, In The Aeroplane Over the Sea remains one of the most iconic indie rock albums of all time, beloved by self-righteous music nerds and casual listeners alike. And to this day, whether it’s your first or hundredth listen, there’s really nothing else quite like it. © Eli Enis/Qobuz