Notes on a Conditional Form

A delightfully overstuffed collection that features some of their best and most immediately pleasing work to date.

Notes seethes with paranoia, charges of revolution, and, above all, honesty, providing a semblance of comfort during a, drum roll please, “unprecedented time” that truly affects everyone.

If this is their worst album, and you might believe that it is, then they very well may be the best band in the world. If quality is more important that quantity, then they must simply be the worst band in the world. It’s all about perspective, and at 80 minutes and 22 songs, you’d expect some measure of clarity to emerge from Notes On A Conditional Form. What you do get is a Taylor Swift album in the midst of five great songs, five decent tracks and 12 give-or-takes. And that, in today’s artistic climate, is tantamount to excellence.

There are at least two too many instrumentals, and songs that stand apart on their own start to bleed together near then end. But the ambition and execution can't be denied. This is the 1975 operating at the peak of their powers.

It can feel indulgent. Yes, they have expressed some of these thoughts more succinctly in the past; and yes, the tracklist could be condensed so that you don’t have to clear your schedule to get through it. But when everything clicks, their work has never sounded so patient, so personal.

In many ways, it's a lot to take in at once, but that's not necessarily a bad thing because it shows a level of unquenchable ambition, creativity, and outspoken curiosity that's rarely felt in popular music today.

For an album as expansive and big-swinging as “Notes,” its hit rate is surprisingly high. The 1975 is still walking that tightrope of self-indulgence, but more often than not it has learned how to retain its balance.

For all its characteristic lyricism and stylistic restlessness, to say there is never a dull moment on Notes on a Conditional Form would be a slight overstatment. [Jul 2020, p.103]

‘Notes On A Conditional Form’ is lyrically playful and musically a step away from being confused for a compilation album of the best tracks this group has ever released. But that confusion is warranted. This is The 1975’s quarantine Megazord.

By putting us off-guard so many times earlier in the album, maybe Healy feels he’s earned the right to be mawkish, in the clinch. And maybe he’s also earned our willingness to put the whole 22-track affair on replay, give or take a mere half-dozen skips.

The diversity is so vast and so well done that it’s almost commendable. Mainly though, it’s just a bit much for one sitting, and instead feels more like you’re listening to The 1975 radio on Spotify.

It is a deceptively intimate work; diary entries hidden within slickly produced pop songs, which shows Britain’s most divisive band still hasn’t lost its ability to surprise.

It might not live up to its lofty goals, but the sheer amount of daring on Notes on a Conditional Form solidifies the four guitar-wielding dudes of the 1975 as the biggest, boldest, and brashest purveyors of something resembling what we used to call rock n’ roll, which, as Healy knows well, was always at least as much a pose as a sound. He wears it well.