John Cale – POPtical Illusion Review

Erroneous it was, in hindsight, to write John Cale off after the excellent Mercy release. It made sense to do so. The Velvet Underground alumni hit a late-stage stride and provided a bounty of last-gasp career bests in a moody effort featuring Weyes Blood and Animal Collective. It is perhaps his flirtations with pop artists and current, rising musicians like Sylvan Esso and Tei Shi which influenced POPtical Illusion. Cale heads back into the daring depths of his art rock standards, providing a tonal dissonance not too dissimilar to the breathy intensities of David Byrne. POPtical Illusion feels like a grace period for Cale. His grasp on pop music is different to ours. He is likely not watching galvanised steel square TikToks while lying in the dark. No, he is far too productive for that and instead sets out with comfortable and challenging art rock flickers.  

Those tonal similarities on the opening tracks God Made Me Do It (Don’t Ask Me Again) and Davies and Wales set a sincere and jolly scene. It may come as a shock after the rippling uncertainties of Mercy but Cale sounds as though he has found calm after the storm. He pursues optimism as though it will change the lives of his and his listeners. A blind faith in positivity is the optical illusion at play here. Pop music is stuffed full of these sleights of hand, a vocal infusion of being your best self as a route through the rough. But Cale takes the time to consider the hard times are a part of you because of this best self, beyond anything he suggests luck is a factor in life. Edge of Reason lingers as a heavy-set boost of cool moves.  

Agony from Mercy lingers, and the reversal of hate still plays on Cale’s mind. Elements of foolishness follow through and the optimism some older artists had in a generation locked indoors is exposed. But his pursuit of reason and the shock to his system is as genuine as it gets – a troubled man trying to make sense of further complications. His fury is clear on I’m Angry, the slimy grins trying to repress the real troubles give Cale a chance to poke holes in the cautious instrumentals. POPtical Illusion may take a few tracks to get into the swing of things but the whirring charms of art rock potential are fulfilled with Company Commander. Warning lights flash and Cale documents the burning down of culture. Its heavy percussion is intense and the sense of destruction at the heart of this is mesmerising. 

Cale is still a voice for the heartbreak of the last four years. He raged on against the woes of a pandemic with Mercy and is now taking his sword to the throat of culture degeneracy. Where do we find ourselves with our rotting social media presence and knack for bitterness? POPtical Illusion is furious but parades itself around as a lighter, opportune follow-up to Mercy. Cale has not changed his mind; he doubles down in some areas as he explores new instrumental sections on his lonesome. Shark – Shark is a monumental experience. Furious guitar work and a horrified Cale warn people to stay back from the horrors of the real world. Who can blame him? It is a tense, horrifying time to be alive.  

But there is hope still, perhaps misplaced, of improvement. Cale is not one to give in to the potential of negativity and he does well to rally those positive thoughts under a constant, electronic crash. A constant anger rages through POPtical Illusions. Only the experienced, matured tones of Cale can capture it. Wandering back and forth between your flat and a record shop which doubles as a café does not lead to enlightenment. But stepping into the wizened embrace Cale affords here does. His dismay at the world is a call to arms. Furthering the optimism he has for the future but noting the decay around him is par for the course. All to the Good confirms the depths of his heartbreak is infinite. His haranguing of guilty parties will never filter through the ears of those Cale criticises but his unifying rage and the completeness of these instrumentals marks another stunning listen for his discography. Cale makes a late-game pivot into chamber pop-like variations with There Will Be No River. It could not be more fitting an experience for the latter stages of his career.