Don’t listen to a word we say (HEY!) Most writers didn’t score the same (HEY!)
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[5.71]
Alfred Soto: I’m back in the early 2010s, holding on to a palm tree as the gale force winds of this harmony-stacked arena rock roar.
[4]
Julian Axelrod: Of Monsters and Men’s folk-stomp shoutalongs were my guilty pleasure back in high school, when I still said things like “guilty pleasure” and “Of Monsters and Men” with a straight face. But no amount of nostalgia could prepare me for how hard this rips. The innate sense of dynamics that made songs like “King and Lionheart” sound a million miles tall is intact, but outfitted with skin-searing guitars and drum fills that could crush boulders. I’m usually not a fan of the “folk vocals + heavy guitars = rock” formula, but every element is so well-integrated that it feels like a major upgrade instead of a lateral move. This song makes me wanna drive off a cliff and buy alcohol for minors, but don’t hold that against it.
[8]
Hannah Jocelyn: My Head Is an Animal is destined to be a nostalgic favorite of early-2010s indie folk fans the way modern music critics frequently scramble to canonize bands they loved growing up. Of Monsters and Men haven’t substantially changed their sound, but they’ve fortunately kept the darker parts intact – “Little Talks” has that horn line, but beneath the hooks are brief detours into ominous feedback and the lyrics about losing a loved one. “Alligator” isn’t as thoughtful; the song opens with “I see color raining down” and no one cares to specify further. But Rich Costey’s muscular polish benefits the band, ensuring that this doesn’t sound like a 2011 reject. It’s not as interesting as the things their former contemporaries are doing years later (Exhibit A: “Only Love” singer Ben Howard now regularly puts out eight minute psychedelic excursions), but there is comfort in hearing Of Monsters and Men age gracefully.
[7]
Will Adams: Of Monsters and Men always felt more distinct than the hey!-stomp folk bands they were (not unfairly) lumped in with like Lumineers, Mumford & Sons, Phillip Phillips, etc. Which makes it all the more commendable that they’ve largely left that sound behind in this new era. While the rest of Fever Dream aims for slick pop, “Alligator” is their punchiest offering yet. Nanna Hilmarsdottir’s vocal performance is stronger than ever, matching the scuzzy rock arrangement to create a song that retains the band’s best qualities while being fresh.
[7]
Ian Mathers: I am aware that experience isn’t universal and so, say, a fever dream could mean something different to different people. But if you’re going to base the lyrics of your single around the idea, repeated frequently, that “I’m fever dreaming,” it feels like a real missed opportunity to accompany that line with pretty standard radio rock sturm und drang instead of anything that even faintly resembles how I suspect most people would describe a fever dream.
[3]
Michael Hong: “Alligator” is still distinctly Of Monsters and Men, only a slight turn away from their folksier elements, but keeping their same anthemic spirit. The pounding drums and electric guitar are lively and energetic, but the chorus fails to match that energy, being an empty call to arms that blends together with the verses. Although “Alligator” builds up gradually, without a solid chorus or bridge it feels rushed and causes the outro to suffer, sounding completely abrupt.
[5]
Joshua Lu: The galumphing sound of “Alligator” brings to mind other alternative artists from the Nordic countries — Aurora, Susanne Sundfør — but this kind of sound feels affected for the typically folksy band. Still, affected grittiness is still much more interesting than anything Of Monsters and Men have churned out since “Little Talks.”
[6]