The ungrateful Banhart then left Young God for bigger and better things (namely larger record labels), and has since done little but disappoint. Starting with 2005’s competent but overlong Cripple Crow, his unique vocal and songwriting style slowly but surely faded into conventionality; by the time his major label debut What Will We Be dropped in 2009, the Devendra I knew and loved was nowhere to be found. In his place was a man fluent in a myriad of genres and styles, but with none of the charm of his former self and far less impressive a beard. The precious, pastoral sounds of earlier classics like Rejoicing In The Hands never felt so far away.
And now, four years on from his last vacuous clusterfuck of an album, Devendra Banhart has returned. Does new album Mala do as it should and make up for the lacklustre nature of his recent works, or is it yet another model of mediocrity? After several honest listens through, I have found myself leaning towards the former.
I’ll make it clear right off the bat that quintessential, forest-dwelling Devendra is once again truant. In his place, however, is a comparably intimate and evocative alter ago. Stylistically, Mala contains for the most part that hushed, slender variety of indie rock you might expect from a Sparklehorse record, perfect for soundtracking midnight trips to the beach and other nocturnal recreations. Despite its drowsy and rather homogenous nature, Mala does an impressive job of sustaining your attention across its fourteen tracks; between short-lived opener “Golden Girls” and singalong outro “Taurobolium,” it’s just you and Devendra in his idiosyncratic, moonlit little world.
But for all the indie sameness across Mala, some form of surprise is often around the corner. There are a couple of musically baffling moments, like when the vintage doo-wop of “Your Fine Petting Duck” inexplicably morphs into a pulsing house tune auf Deutsch (yes, you read that correctly), and a number of times when Devendra shatters the optimistic mood with some seriously self-deprecating lyrics:
“Mama had such high hopes for me … if he makes you cry a lot, please remember that with me you never stopped … if he don’t give enough time, please remember that I never gave you mine.” Yikes.
Mala may hit you as one big 40-minute blur on first listen, but with repeated spins its detail grows apparent and highlights begin to emerge. The muted gospel of “Für Hildegard von Bingen” is possibly Devendra’s best attempt at pop to date, whilst nonsensical ditty “A Gain” is up there with his most haunting work. “Your Fine Petting Duck” too deserves commendation, if only for that bewildering switch in genre mid-song.
Is Mala a big improvement over Devendra’s last record? Without a doubt. By opting for less, Banhart has achieved considerably more. Does his new direction hold a candle to the moss-caked beauty of his Young God days? Not really. But it’s now very clear that that Devendra is gone, and shows no sign of ever coming back. It may take some effort, but that’s something we’re just going to have to come to grips with. Devendra Banhart no longer makes music to get lost in the woods to, music that sounds like a loincloth-wearing madman picking up a guitar for the first time. We can no longer pretend that he is secretly half-man, half-goat like we once could. As Mala makes clear, Devendra is in fact a human after all, who eats and shits and wears skinny jeans just like everybody else.
If you’re into catchy, delicate hipster rock, go ahead and pick Mala up. It ain’t no Rejoicing In The Hands, but it’ll have to do.
3.5/5
