Foals - Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost Part 1

Foals - Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost Part 1

There is something about Foals that allows them to get away with things other acts don’t. An attractive arrogance that has endeared fans to their absolute unwillingness to be boxed in. They’ve rarely stayed the same, challenging their former albums with their latest, discontent to take handouts or compromise. They’ve never been afraid of mixing the hard with the soft. But everything is different now; they’re fifteen years older and a bassist removed from last they released an album. Surely this has chipped away at their mammoth confidence? Wrong. Rather it is the opposite, as the latest from the Oxford quartet sees them embrace a new lease on life. Taking aim at social dissonance, global warming and the prevalent absurdity of the 2010s, Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost Part 1 is the first of two albums that sees Foals give themselves a leg up to new heights.

With this being said, despite their gargantuan profile, Foals still have the alluring appearance of outsiders. It's an image they haven’t exactly shunned. They’ve long rejected the seething joy and dystopian scenes of Biffy Clyro and Muse’s stadium rock, nor have they aligned themselves with the space rock of Arctic Monkeys or nihilistic indulgences of The 1975. Even their frontman, the son of two immigrants and a critic of the EU despite his anti-Brexit stance, is something of an anomaly. It’s painted them in a good light, as time and time again they’ve succeeded by doing things… different. This new album is no different. Abandoning the presence of a producer, the four-piece found themselves able to explore without pressure. The result is a musical narrative that illustrates the battle between anxiety and happiness, political and personal, war (both physical and mental) and peace (ditto). 

Tackling generational abandonment and catastrophe, Foals seek in their newest work to provide some escapism from the overload of negativity. Despite the weight of the themes, Everything… is deceptively dancey, uplifting even, and one of their most complete albums to date. From the oriental chime of Surf Part 1, the lucid dreamy haze of Moonlight, the saviour seeking urgency of On The Luna or the melancholic resigned loneliness of Sunday, Foals use a barrage of synth, crystal-dripping keys, speedy drum tracks and alt-psych riffs to paint a landscape of restraint in a world of overwhelming.

Take lead single ‘Exits’ for example. The jittering ‘Sledgehammer’ synth blurts serve as an opening for a commentary of the dystopian state of the environment (“The weathers against us”), while also serving as an album-defining track. A dance floor take on the doomsday that uses a biting rhythm and tight groove to illustrate the coming end times, it is bottled escapism. Lyrics foretell of doom and gloom, while keys and harmonies demand bodily movements. The same goes for ‘White Onions,’ which is a riot starter unlike anything they’ve written since Inhaler. A musical take on the crushing omniscience of negative news available at our fingertips, it’s repetition is symbolic of said news being drilled into your skull with a stubborn malice. The tight claustrophobia is apposed by the resistance of frontman Yannis Philippakis’s defiant vocals, the single light in the darkness that drowns out all else as he roars through this number, joyfully, painfully alive.

Agitation, juxtaposition and paradox is a weapon frequently employed during Everything… particularly during ‘In Degrees.’ A critique of the lack of connection and human emotion of the modern era, Philippakis’s sounds like he’s writing for the next Matt Healy EP, except that this treatise is set against a hip-swaying, foot stomping groove. “Am I wasting my time?” panics the singer, society breaking down, his relationships crumbling around him, as the dance floor packs and people are unwittingly brought closer as the dance beat peaks. Tongue in cheek despite the melodrama, the electronic fused funky soul of ‘In Degrees’ seems to be grinning through the strobes at you, satisfied in having fooled the despair. Not the best song on the album, but certainly my favourite.

And as the album comes to a close, I find myself placing the penultimate track on repeat. Recorded on a wet autumn day, mere hours after Philippakis discovered the wounded fox mentioned in the opening line in his back garden, “I'm Done with the World (& It’s Done with Me)” is a luxurious track, laden with silky sorrow, creaking croons and wistful keys. In many ways, its the quintessential track of the album and is uniquely Foals-esque. Riddled with grim paradox (from the dead fox to the sleeping daughter) and imperfections (hedges and leaves on fire despite the rain, breeds further apocalyptic images), its the most human of the tracks. The band sound exhausted, emotionally and physically drained by it all, and in doing so leave all on the table, by leaving much unsaid. “Where are the high stakes,” I found myself asking “the creeping madness, the defiant jives? Is this really how it ends?” Alas, it could only end as such. The lights come on, the curtain descends, everyone rings their taxis, feeling decidedly more tender than they had this morning. And that’s really the point, Philippakis and co. aren’t here to provide answers, they’re here to take you to somewhere where you don’t have to think about them for a while. Rather than disappointing, I can imagine a screen with the words “Foals will return in 2019” like an MCU post-credits scene to accompany the slow, low rumble of “I’m Done…” It’s not a conclusion, it's a scene setter, a warning if you will. And it's message is clear. 

Foals are back.