Screen Memories

Like Maus's best work, Screen Memories converses primarily through its musical and instrumental affect. These songs are so clearly laboured over and full of detail that their impact as a whole, coupled with bizarre and often-obfuscated lyrics, can easily wash over a first-time listener. Spend some time immersed in their depths, though, and watch as they unravel and fill in Maus's immaculate vocal sketches.

At a little under 40 minutes, Screen Memories is a concise LP with few faults. Its sequencing brings out the variety on offer.

Maus’s genius is to splice nostalgic sonic expectations for the future with new structural realities. [Nov 2017, p.60]

By committing to one idea Maus has found a focal point around which to craft his own musical identity.

The result is a fourth album that conveys Maus’ confounding persona with total confidence: sometimes silly, sometimes stentorian, it gives the impression of a man in full command of his off-piste forays, rendering it fascinating even as it befuddles.

This album is yet further proof that John Maus has no boundaries and relishes unearthing new patterns, sequences and progressions. He’s in his element when creating music quite unlike anything else.

Screen Memories strikes a chord in a way that most blatantly political albums never quite manage. As society crumbles, John Maus’ commitment to being John Maus is inspiring, tapping an unexpected synchronicity with our doomed world.

The uninitiated may hear only a wonky Julian Cope at 25rpm, but somewhere on Screen Memories is the point where performance art ends and genuine mania begins. [Nov 2017, p.32]

A singular voice, in more ways than one. [Dev 2017, p.90]

Screen Memories feels like the cryptic overspill, gnomic fragments of ideas and visions embedded in gloriously baroque synth-pop. [Dec 2017, p.109]

A common pattern on this record? A feeling of positivity and amusement that shines through in almost every song, while still preserving a solemn mood.

He propels the masses into an apocalyptic party with simple and inviting gestures, even if behind the songs lays an exhaustive perfectionist who’s fully dedicated to his craft. That exhaustion does catch up with Maus as the quality of the songwriting loses its luster, especially during its second half, but his sharply quizzical thoughts do cohere into an involving whole.

The album continues in typically strange style. However, despite the lack of musical progression, for some reason Screen Memories sounds, whisper it, on trend.

With engaging basslines that act as the hooks and the glue to Maus' carefully contrived sound, Screen Memories succeeds by basking in its murky splendor.

Chances are you’ll once again walk away with some of its lyrics rattling around your brain. On the other hand, those lyrics have never seemed more like open dares to take them way, way too seriously.

With the world a darker, scarier place than ever this could have been a triumph for Maus. Yet, what he's created is a sometimes brilliant, sometimes meek recording that lacks the purpose and poise of its predecessor. Sadly, time won't be as kind as it once was.

Screen Memories isn’t particularly political, and all the better for its lack of lyrical ambition.