How MGMT Became Kooky Again

On Loss of Life, the indie sleaze staples pay homage to all past versions of themselves

I almost gave up on MGMT. I did not particularly love their last album Little Dark Age — released six years ago — due to its uncharacteristic theme of stiff, hopeless doom-and-gloom, but also the massive, aggressive parading it got on social media. Serving as the title track to endless “get ready with mes” and makeup tutorials on TikTok and Instagram sucked all life out of the single “Little Dark Age,” and made their already corny gothy take seem even cornier. I found myself repeatedly going back to their slimy, playful debut Oracular Spectacular for color and comfort. 

Listening back to their introduction into the world, anticipating the release of their seventh studio album Loss of Life in February, I wondered — could they redeem themselves here? Is there a way to go back to that spirit? The weirdness that still attracts “Kids” and “Electric Feel” onto “indie sleaze”-themed playlists over ten years later? The messiness and fun that scratched audiences’ nostalgia itch when “Time to Pretend” made a guest appearance on the Saltburn soundtrack? The answer: absolutely. Loss of Life neatly and breezily wraps up the many dark and light ages of MGMT that exist in our current pop culture sandbox, with a presentation that is welcoming to fans of any era. 

If Little Dark Age was their moment of moody isolation, Loss of Life acts as Andrew VanWynGarden and Ben Goldwasser’s first grassy, barefoot steps outside again. “Mother Nature,” the album’s twangy, 90s Britpop-inspired second track embraces whimsy and simplicity. VanWynGarden seems less guarded and more emotional lyrically, celebrating a point of maturity as he proclaims that he “finally understands mother nature.” 

Loss of Life’s index’s mix of inspirations and sounds vary from turn-of-the-century-inspired nostalgia to lush, sun-soaked psychedelica, but every reference drawn, no matter how obscure, act as callbacks to snapshots of MGMT’s long-spanning career. We see the slacker garage rock energy of MGMT (2013), the existentialism of Congratulations (2010) and even the tributes to the decades prior that were scattered across Little Dark Age (2018).

The two are able to put their own spin on it all with big-band drums, glitter-soaked synths, hints of acoustics and loads of distortion, omnipresent as usual. The album’s midway powerhouse “Bubblegum Dog,” for example, is layered and triumphant, its otherworldly, nonsensical lyrical content called back to their terribly overhated self-titled album. Sprinkled-in guitar solos and harpsichord moments pay homage to the 00s indie sleaze movement, whose comeback in the 2020s has accounted for the resurgence of their early, DIY-esque demeanor. 

In a rare move for the band, they invite a guest onto a track. On “Dancing in Babylon,” Héloïse Adélaïde Letissier, of French indie project Christine and the Queens, and VanWynGarden duet on an electro pop 80s ballad. MGMT has never featured another artist on a studio album track before, so the song sees the vocalist trying to navigate sharing the stage with another. Their voices blend rather melodically over the glimmery anthem of runaway lovers. It’s like hearing a surprisingly good Sonny and Cher karaoke performance from two strangers meeting for the first time at a bar — unheard of previously, but works in the best way. “Two ships in the night, quietly signaling from the bow,” VanWynGarden and Letissier sing about their fictionalized couple, but the line also winks at their triumphant vocal teamwork. 

MGMT has never shied away from experimenting with their music, even if it cost them their millennial audience from the bloghouse days. After their 2010 release Congratulations, Goldwasser revealed that fans accused them of basically ruining their career. The album aimed higher, was well produced, and showed that they were no longer kids who were “feeling rough, feeling raw” like in 2007, a major change that mainstream listeners were wary of. The duo never cared about pandering to fame or acceptance (hell, Andrew didn’t even know that Little Dark Age blew up in 2020), they just powered through with a tunnel-vision focus on evolving their metaverse of sound. 

Any stark changes or sudden left turns throughout their career come flooding back in the second arc of Loss of Life. Trippy grunge track “Nothing Changes” proves that yes, nothing has changed, as VanWynGarden affirms to the world that if he could change, “he wouldn’t be here,” singing to the people that stuck around. The connection between artist and audience feels as strong and engaging as it's ever been, as the singer gets vulnerable through some long-held high notes and joyous “la la las.” Any fan who has cared enough about MGMT to stick through their journey is graciously rewarded with these signs of vulnerability that say, “We see you, and we care too.”

As suggested in the title of the album’s lead single “Mother Nature,” nature plays a gentle but influential role in the album’s soundscape. Samples of chiming bells, flowing streams and voiceovers of philosophers discussing their beliefs regarding life on earth leave their marks throughout, a staple of MGMT’s extraction of outside resources for their own art. There’s always been hints of acoustics in their work, but distortion, muted vocals and layered melodies keep all and any possible indie folk accusations at bay. Perfecting the balance between the chaos and the earthly, the band concocts a harmonious sound for any enjoyer, no matter what introduced them to their music in the first place.

The flora and fauna of Loss of Life blows through the wind, similar to the scene in Saltburn where “Time to Pretend” starts. “That was the perfect scene for that song, when they’re naked in a field and happy,” VanWynGarden says. The song now has 380 million Spotify streams, and is just another TikTok foot-in-the-door for the group. There’s always a fear with artists that go “viral” to create that magic again, to appease the floodgates of new fans rolling in. This is an interesting pinpoint in MGMT’s career for new work, a chance to prove themselves worthy of fandom to new audiences — and they’ve passed the test. 

Loss of Life ventures to new, more mature grounds, embracing the band’s love of exploration, but ropes itself back by blending new with the old. A screengrab of the very essence of who’ve they’ve been as a band — this was the album that MGMT needed to make to capture the magic. You can tell the kids of Oracular Spectacular have grown up, and are gazing back at life rather than searching forward.