Megafaun 'Gather Form and Fly' (Crammed Discs) Released 28/09/09

Poor Megafaun. First there’s that handle which makes them sound like a gardening-obsessed metal band. Then there’s the undeniable fact that they used to be in a band with Justin “Bon Iver” Vernon, a spot on their CV that’s tended to make the Wisconsin trio’s past associations more newsworthy than their current output.

It’s time to right this particular wrong. Judging by this second full-length, Megafaun have something more original to offer than the undeniably pretty broken heart lamentations of their one-time bandmate. Armed with an exhaustive array of instrumentation, a keen interest in experimentation and a gift for lavish harmonies, ‘Gather, Form & Fly’ takes the listener on a head-spinning journey through American music, with a particular emphasis on offering contemporary mutations of ancient roots formats.

At various points during ‘Gather, Form & Fly’, the North Carolina-based three-piece can be found picking a banjo like they were perched on some 1930’s porch, easing into a relaxed but razor-sharp groove akin to a top-notch 70’s swamp rock session and diving headfirst into outer reaches of avant garde experimentation. Occasionally they do all three simultaneously. What’s more, they can turn in a winning tune as well, turning ‘Gather, Form & Fly’ from what could’ve been a detachedly academic study of musty musical traditions into an actual living, breathing, feeling feast of quality songwriting and musicianship.

Admittedly, Megafaun aren’t exactly mapping uncharted territory here. At times, the predominantly acoustic instrumentation, bucolic feel and sumptuous harmonies bring to mind the wide-eyed, woods-trekking likes of Fleet Foxes and Low Anthem. Elsewhere, particularly the perfectly orchestrated multipart mini-epic ‘Impressions of the Past’ and the foam-mouthed dance around the campfire that’s ‘The Process’, they bear more than a passing resemblance to their criminally underrated label-mates Akron/Family.

Just as often, though, they sound like no one else but Megafaun. The highlights – the seriously hypnotic ‘Kaufman’s Ballad’, equal parts caressing harmonies and steadily increasing sense of unease and foreboding, the impassioned, banjo-driven hoedowns ‘The Fade’ and ‘Guns’, the sparse, shimmering hymn ‘Worried Mind’, which boasts melody mighty enough to have been generated at any point over the last 200 years or so – twist familiar formulas into fresh, compelling new shapes. Even when it doesn’t work out that well - the ragged stomp of ‘Solid Ground’ comes uncomfortably close to ‘Tonight’s The Night’ mimicry, whilst the more outré instances of boundary-pushing lead to some less than compelling electronic dead-ends – you’ve to admire Megafaun for refusing to pander to expectations.