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• Phoenix channels legendary composers through their latest, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

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The name Mozart brings a myriad of sounds and images to mind—classical music, perhaps screenshots of the 1984 film Amadeus—but hardly do we associate him with contemporary rock groups like Phoenix. Despite the gap between respective time eras, French rock band Phoenix shares an important characteristic with the namesake of their album—a profound understanding of musical style. Wolfgang, Phoenix’s fourth full-length album, is dominated by ridiculously catchy beats and buzzing synths that contrast beautifully with the well-timed slips and slides of Thomas Mars’ voice.

The record begins with its strongest tracks; the first, “Lisztomania,” borrows its name from a term used to describe the overzealous audience reception to the performances of Franz Liszt, a famous 19th century composer and pianist. The song itself introduces and prepares the listener for the typical patterns of Wolfgang—first it pieces together the musical components, builds a tension period before exploding into the refrain, and applies a frantic pressure that delves into a calm that smoothes out all the noise towards the end. This pattern is more or less prevalent in “1901,” which is arguably the most intense and well-organized track on the album. The spinning, kaleidoscopic qualities flawlessly transition into the song’s drop-kick beats that accompany, “Fold it, fold it, fold it.” The high-riding mood of “1901” then delightfully mellows out in “Fences.”

Interestingly enough, Wolfgang cuts suddenly into the emotionally-complicated, two-part interlude, “Love Like a Sunset.” At a total length of 7:39, the first five minutes are entirely electronic and guided almost by a sense of time through its frantic melodies. Coupled with the rumbling noises adding the dramatic mist to the foundation of the song, the song gives the deepening, heavily contemplative feeling of driving alone towards a sun-setting horizon. We hit a climax after five, solitary minutes, at the point which the song is joined by bright guitar strumming and drawn-out vocals that aim to stretch across the sky’s expanse.

Mars continues to wield his voice like a whip for the second half of the album. These danceworthy, head-bopping numbers, such as in “Lasso” and “Girlfriend,” possess many of the same features of the first few songs. Despite how pleasing they might be, the repetition of these features—the heart-pumping synths and vibrant guitar riffs—may just be the album’s biggest weakness. Although it certainly solidifies Wolfgang’s addictive sound, it runs into the risk of making the songs indistinguishable from another.

Underlining the dynamic rise and falls of these tracks are lyrics that suggest complication, frustration, and dejection: “Oh no! What did I say? What can I say? / Rome, Rome, many tears have fallen here / I'll be driving, you look the other way,” Mars sings in “Rome.” Like in other songs, he writes about problematic relationships and eventual loneliness, highlighted by a concern for the future: “Tomorrow is a long, long time / When you've lost your way.” Mars, as he did in Alphabetical, sings in repetitions and slabs of fragments, but the messages possess, comparatively, a higher degree of melancholy.

Out of the entire Phoenix discography, Wolfgang demonstrates a livelier, noticeable growth, urging everyone to shake loose on the dancefloor.