(A Conditional) Return To Form | The 1975 New Album Review

I would rather live in a world with Notes On A Conditional Form, The 1975's new juggernaut LP, than without it.

The world is a better place for bold visions, and those brave enough to follow through with them. On their fourth album Matty Healy and co have delivered a record of remarkable juxtaposition, perhaps the first true musical representation of the 21st century. There’s trip-hop, anarchic-punk, modulated vocal takes, boy band ballads and 80’s/90’s pop. There’s confessions that will fascinate their already dedicated fan base (Healy didn’t really fuck in a car) and revelations that will bore the rest of us (we’ve only a thousand Monday mornings left).

Made on the road, in 16 different studios amidst a worldwide tour for the ‘Brief Inquiry...’ hit-parade, the diverse nature of ‘Notes On A Conditional Form’ should come as little surprise. The 1975 are a band indebted to their surroundings, this album arriving like a Spotify playlist randomly accumulating tracks based off previous listening history, rather than a concise, fully planned vision. They are worldwide; born in England, raised by the internet. To see a band so openly subvert genre on a record is thrilling, and fully reflective of a planet connected at our fingertips.

The 1975 swing wildly from the climate activist Greta Thunberg narrated opener, to ‘People’, a riotous, Fugazi inspired thrash which sees drummer George Daniel impressively avoid touching his cymbals. It's an intoxicating one-two, which you feel Healy couldn't possibly believe in any more, for fear he'll combust behind the microphone. The audacious, ‘The End (Music For Cars)’ then sits bizarrely out of place, having strayed too far from its real home on the Jurassic Park soundtrack. For an album of loose semblance and outlandish contrasts, the blue-print for 'Notes...' is laid out pretty much from the start here. 'Frail State Of Mind' takes the shuffling, claustrophobic DNA of hit 'TOOTIMETOOTIMETOOTIME' and takes it back to his bedroom. 'I'm sorry for my frail state of mind', he sings over minimalist beats. Unlike it's predecessor, 'Frail State Of Mind' is quiet enough to be believable, leaving the bombast and horns behind. Healy has time and again expressed his admiration for Mike Skinner and The Streets, and at The 1975's best they capture some of their intimacy.

'Streaming' is the sound of leftover synth lines, recycled by an orchestra given no time signatures or firm direction to take things. Though impressive on it's own or as an introduction to the band's live set (although that role will undoubtedly fall to Thunberg's climate crisis address), here it acts as an exaggerated intro to 'The Birthday Party', a song that once more aims for more Skinner-styled patter, but feels awkward and uninviting. A conversation you'd rather not be overhearing.'Yeah I Know' sees Healy repeating himself over anxious, electronic beats. "Time feels like it's changed, I don't feel the same', he sings, before looping it backwards for no real reason. It adds little to the record, and would probably still add little to an extended deluxe edition of 'Notes...', which is what this record feels like anyway.

They follow this with 'Then Because She Goes', a wondrous exploration of the moment two loves part, even for a little while. It's a short blast of emotion, "I wake up, love you, love you, love you". He can't emphasize his point enough, like teenagers texting before bed, reassuring eachother that when they wake up, they'll still feel the same.

Phoebe Bridgers can do no wrong at present. Whether conquering the world with her own devastatingly sad solo music, releasing groundbreaking folk with Conor Oberst in Better Oblivion Community Center or playing the role of indie Dixie Chick as 1/3 of boygenius, hers is a voice of multi-generational appeal. Her inclusion on 'Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America' is a gorgeous move, helping to tell the story of a young, oppressed, gay person in 2020 USA. Healy and Bridgers vocals meld well, as you suspect they would, but where 'Jesus Christ...' and 'The Birthday Party' feel forced, 'Roadkill' sounds effortless and brilliantly sad. A song about being on the road, inadvertently searching for love and the stress of pop-stardom; but with none of the 'woe is me' pomposity that a young, handsome pop-star in his early 30's may write about. Healy sounds real here, not hiding behind vocal effects or a third person perspective. He wants to find peace, but he'll settle for a condom first.

'Me & You Together Song' is Notes On A Conditional Form's triumph. A 3 minute pop-song of such unabashed sincerity that you can't help but feel you're living it with him. He's been mugged off all across America, but it's okay; 'I've been in love with her for ages', he sings over coruscating guitars and 90's style riffs. You can't imagine the cathartic release this song must have gifted Healy. Devastatingly direct and simple, as if he's in the room with his love. 11 songs in, you could close the door here, but not so. For those brave enough to venture on, strap yourselves in for side 2.



The record's golden child, the Michael Jackson pinching, already streamed in the millions, 'If You're Too Shy (Let Me Know) is a hollow misstep. Fun to a point, but haven't The 1975 done this already? Like, a few times? Perhaps that's harsh, as we're holding them to a chameleonic standard that's probably impossible for even them to live up to; but 'If You're Too Shy...' feels like a SNL parody song, a caricature of a long forgotten band on a Top Of The Pop's 80's special. Healy claims it's an exploration of online voyeurism and sexual expression, but that message is completely lost here.

Elsewhere, 'Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy)' sets it's sight on Kanye's 'College Dropout', while 'Nothing Revealed / Everything Denied' takes it's cue from 'The Life Of Pablo', particularly 'Ultralight Beam'. Neither hit home with anything much to say. 'There's more instrumentals, the George Daniel deep cut 'Having No Head' resting towards 'Notes...' finish line. It might sound cool in an educational video about space; but this is a record throwing far too much of itself away. It's a lazy addition, completely unnecessary.

Discussing the festival dance-tent evoking 'What Should I Say', Healy admits 'it's a result of us never figuring it out'. I'd argue that's the case for most of  'Notes On A Conditional Form'. When they do solve the puzzle, like on the truly heartfelt 'Guys', where Healy sings of how starting a band 'was the best thing that ever happened' to the tune of John Waite's 'Missing You', it cements their place as one of the 21st century's most important acts so far.

Unfortunately  'Notes...' too often collapses under it's own gargantuan ambition. Still, few bands will ever be brave or talented enough to make anything like it.

Taylor Johnson