Transangelic Exodus

Furman has not lost his terrific way with a tune, a rhythm and a lyric, this time often paired up with odd sound effects or quirky instrumentation that just make it all the more compelling and moreish. Although the subject matter can be heavy (and all the better for it), it is presented in fabulous slowly-building pop tune wrapping.

Transangelic Exodus is a scrappy yet poignant rock & roll narrative of inner conflict and acceptance; its songs are a confessional and confrontational commentary on a historic period when so much is possible, even as fear, hate, and paranoia still hold the reins of power. Its energy, vulnerability, rage, and crafty poetics are awe-inspiring.

With Furman already establishing a consistent sound over his previous records, it was perhaps expected of him to cover some well-worn ground again here. Instead, and appropriately, Transangelic Exodus is an album that constantly takes left turns and refuses to slow. It turns out that with the right driver, there are plenty of miles left on the old road yet

Transangelic Exodus is a beautiful, dark, twisted, painful and yet hopeful tale.

The songs that work best as standalone statements outside of the album’s narrative still have themes of resilience.

Transangelic Exodus is easily his most ambitious album but, for him, feels like a natural progression, seeing him find new ways to open up.

A great deal of well-written, rigorously observed detail.

It turns out that Transangelic Exodus is a fitting title, then, for an artist emerging from his early career and crafting a new project that’s satisfying and unique.

Careful attention to details grounds the story and makes it believable. You know, insomuch as a tale of transangels can be believable.

Furman’s songwriting is invigorated by a headlong rush of narrative, exploring episodic shifts of tone along the way.

Equal parts Jean Genet and Hellboy, it’s a magnificent oddity, exultant in its uniqueness, both personally and musically.

This is really an album about empathy, and feels incredibly necessary today.

Frankly, your head spins. Unpick it all, though, this is one of the most probing and pioneering avant-retro-pop albums of the age. And when Furman swerves from his Seraphiel & Louise narrative to discuss his issues with religion, coming out and the rise of the Far Right on the album’s jauntier ditties, it’s one of the most provocative too.

His seventh album vibrates with fear, rage and fierce defiance. [Mar 2018, p.92]

The scale and bombast of this record are inescapable, it has a swagger one might associate with acts far bigger than those in the cult hero waters Furman swims in. [Mar 2018, p.112]

Both sonically and lyrically, it's an album that is explicitly, thrillingly transgressive and is already an early contender for one of the albums of the year. [Mar 2018, p.33]