Earlier this month, the band Unknown Mortal Orchestra released “Sex and Food”. This lo-fi, psychedelic album is, thus far, a huge culmination of the group’s previous work.

There was a shift from the energetic lust from UMO’s previous album “Multi Love”, an account of lead artist Nielson and his wife’s shared affair with a third party. “Sex and Food” is a nihilistic and dreamy shift of tone, and this album is more driven in sinking itself into the cosmos. The track “Ministry of Alienation” is truly alien, nearly unlistenable, but the line “no one will fuck the ugly robot” is curiosity-inducing and an incentive to stay. “Hunnybee” is a welcomely upbeat transition, until the song carefully convinces that love stings, and no good thing can be truly good. At this point, the listener catches onto to the pessimistic mindset of the narrator, and it is a cue to stay on-edge. For a good reason.

The next song is “Chronos Feasts on His Children”, and you are already piqued, but then surprised at the gentle, tentative voice used to tell this story. Nielson is teaching how time eats up people without resentment, but he sounds heartbroken at the fact that he is breaking the news to the listener. “American Guilt” follows this dreary ballad, and was released as a single before the album came out. It actually seems a bit out of place and holds nothing but generic frustration at America, but the ravenous rock sound was something that “Sex and Food” definitely needed.

The next two tracks are more heavy and resemble the undercut Prince-style funkiness. They are first songs of existential depression, but then acceptance and insight on the finite qualities of human lives. He acknowledges that people take drugs and try to deny these traits of life, but it results in vicious cycles of tweaking and mental dissociation. It is an insightful song, and one of the first reasonable societal critiques that “Sex and Food” makes.

The last few tracks go back and forth from the end of the world, and the value of assets like cash in the grand scheme of things. UMO really does a great job at adhering to their message of nihilism. The album is wrapped up in a choppy ballad about love being fake and chemically based, and it is a little edgy but nonetheless relatable. It is a audible transition into a bit of a psychosis. Finally, the last track “If You’re Going to Break Yourself” is ironic. The entire album criticized existence and relationships and drugs, but then Nielson criticizes his lover for hurting themselves, and in turn, hurting him.

“Sex and Food” needs the help of lyrics to understand, and it is worth sitting down if you do so. UMO offers relevant social commentary, but all through the backbone of doomed existence. The songs are played like they were already defeated, but it makes the message that much more genuine. “Sex and Food” was a well orchestrated, unknowingly needed take on the impending death of all things.