It all starts so innocently: two twin guitars, chiming and reverberating out of each side of the speaker, slithering like a snake through trying to make its way out of a labyrinth. “There’s nothing here!” singer Jesse Laney shouts. “But we got a lot to say about it.” Then you hear a drum stick tapping a hi-hat, spacey, sci-fi synths hover like they’ve just discovered a new planet and the mood turns from confused to optimistic to estatic in just a few seconds. And all I want to do is dance around like there’s no tomorrow.

You see, it’s hard not to get super geeky about World’s Greatest Ghosts. Of every band I’ve heard since moving back to Portland two years ago, no one has really captured my heart quite like these guys. No matter where I see WGG play—be it a crowded house show, opening for a sparse audience at the Wonder Ballroom, or in the KPSU subbasement—they always kill it. And so it feels so fucking good to be able to hear this song, and the incredible album that comes after it, and say this: I think No Magic is the best Portland rock record since the Thermals’ The Body, the Blood, the Machine, and I’m ready to stand behind it.

On an album where every freakin’ song sounds like a single, “Phantastes” is still the most obvious choice. As the opener, it quickly sets the template for the rest of No Magic: circling guitars, tons of keyboard and synth breakdowns, cascading drums and gigantic choruses. You can say that “Phantastes” sounds like Wold Parade (or even Spencer Krug’s nerdier project Sunset Rubdown), sure, but that’s almost doing a disservice to the song. World’s Greatest Ghosts live in their own universe, and though you can hear traces of ELO and even some dancey stuff most of No Magic almost transcends comparisons. We music writers love cheekiness, and to write something this rad, this much fun off as New Order-ish is just lazy. If WGG are anything, it’s certainly not lethargic.

I’ve listened to “Phantastes” in my office quietly over headphones, trying hard not to knock over my coffee as I drum on the table and endure all sorts of stares from my bemused co-workers. I’ve jammed the song in a car driving to the beach; on the 15 to work; getting lost trying to find my way to the next subway in New York City. My iTunes play count is at 24. The night I first received the record, I brought it home and throw it on my stereo only to be interrupted by my basement neighbors 10 minutes later. “Do you think you could stop stomping on the floor?”, they asked. Honestly I had no idea I was rocking out that hard. That’s the great thing about WGG—they transport you to a place where everything is right, where all your worries go away, and, for nearly four minutes, to a fantasy world where everyone is as weird and spazzy as you are. Yeah, I want to go to there.

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No Magic is out November 10th on Lucky Madison Records.

Links:
World’s Greatest GhostSpace
Lucky Madison

Photo by Jason Quigley

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