Some thoughts on The 1975's 'Being Funny in a Foreign Language'

John Steinbeck once wrote: “and now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” It’s one of my favourite quotes, taken from Steinbeck’s 1952 novel East of Eden. No, I haven’t read it. But in high school, I held onto it as if it were a life preserver, repeating it like a mantra when I would hold myself to impossibly towering academic standards.

Yet to me, Steinbeck’s words also feel like the foundations upon which The 1975’s fifth studio album, Being Funny in a Foreign Language, are built. 

The 1975’s previous 2020 release, Notes on a Conditional Form, was a polarising record. With a staggering 22-song tracklist, it was a sprawling experimentation of different musical genres and forms. All of its singles boasted a different style, from the hardcore punk influences of ‘People’ to the gentle acoustic melodies of ‘Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America’. In some ways, it felt like the band were expanding upon some of the experimentation they had explored on 2018’s A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships. The album felt like one band’s attempt to see how far they could push the boundaries of what they could achieve musically. 

At times, NOACF felt like one boundary pushed too far. While there were undoubtedly standout songs - the 80s inspired ‘If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)’ and the gospel-tinged ‘Nothing Revealed / Everything Denied’ come to mind in particular - a lot of the tracks felt like sketches or incomplete ideas. Sometimes the album dragged as a result of its maximalist style and I often found myself skipping certain songs to get to the better ones. 

Two years later, The 1975 have reined in their experimental tendencies and gone back to basics. Being Funny in a Foreign Language concedes the band have gone as far as they can; now it’s time to pick out the elements that make their music shine. It’s not about making an album that reinvents the wheel, it’s just about making an album that’s good. 

Matty Healy likened the process of creating BFIAFL to taking a polaroid picture rather than trying to craft a magnum opus. Shrugging off the pressure of having to prove himself, Healy was more intent on capturing a snapshot in time. And from the get go, it feels like The 1975 have succeeded in doing just that.

BFIAFL sings and glides with a cohesion that NOACF had lost somewhere along the way during its 22-track journey. The new album is The 1975’s shortest yet, 44 minutes long with just 11 tracks. But each song feels intentional and thought out, every detail purposeful and given enough time to be fully explored. Everything is tighter and shimmers with Jack Antonoff’s distinct production. BFIAFL takes what worked off NOACF and the rest of their back catalogue to create a gorgeous batch of songs, combining well-loved elements with fresh ideas and matured songwriting.

The singles were already a taste of what was to come: ‘Happiness’ and ‘I’m In Love With You’ are quintessential 1975: guitar riffs pulled straight from the 80s, hooks that get tangled up in your brain (the amount of times I’ve had ‘I’m In Love With You’ stuck in my head this past week has been ridiculous), and upbeat melodies that ring with warmth. ‘All I Need To Hear’ hints at the subdued nature of BFIAFL, the musical lovechild of ‘If I Believe You’ and ‘Be My Mistake’, but without the cynicism of either. Instead, it’s a sincere plea that goes to the heart of BFIAFL and its explorations of love. But the album’s debut single, ‘Part Of The Band’, is also special. Its slightly unorthodox instrumentation affirms that the group, while returning to their iconic sound, are not simply writing paint-by-numbers 1975 songs. They’re still aiming to do something interesting rather than play it completely safe.

Healy refers to their self-titled opening tracks as the band’s “status update”, in which he describes “the cultural, social [and] political environment [he is] living in.” He explains: “then we go into the album, which is me living that life, in that time.” For their first three albums, the opening track has always had the same lyrics, but different musical styles. A prequel of sorts, they typically hint at the production and stylistic direction of the album.

Then came NOACF, and ‘The 1975’ was instead a rallying call for climate action. Still a “status update” for the times we were living and continue to live in, but a signal that the band were moving away from the familiar lyrics that opened up every album and, at that point, concerts too.

Subsequently, I was really curious to hear what BFIAFL’s ‘The 1975’ would sound like. As expected, it was a first taste of the album’s sonic palette: gentle, quivering strings and flittering piano combined with Healy’s reflective lyrics. Some of his best work yet, Healy describes the numbness of the past few years and how the internet has continued to gnaw away at all of us, desensitising us to the things that matter. The song’s refrain is apologetic: “I’m sorry if you’re living and you’re seventeen.” Healy is reaching out to his audience and pulling them into an empathetic embrace. Such a gesture sets out the baselines for BFIAFL - this is an album about love, and giving love to those who need it. And since we need love to survive, we’re giving it to everyone.

“You’re making an aesthetic out of not doing well / and mining all the bits of you you think you can sell / whilst the fans are on.” - The 1975, ‘The 1975’

Immediately, ‘The 1975’ is juxtaposed by its two follow up songs, ‘Happiness’ and ‘Looking For Somebody (To Love)’. One of my favourite things about this album and The 1975’s output in general is how 80s-inspired it is. I love the shiny guitars and larger than life sound, a nod to artists like The Waterboys and Prince. And this production runs through the whole album: ‘Oh Caroline’, ‘I’m In Love With You’, and ‘Wintering’ are all songs in this vein. The latter in particular also reminded me of Paul Simon, one of my favourite musical artists. I love that the band wears their influences on their sleeve and does so proudly.

But BFIAFL is also an understated record. It wanders delicately into ‘Human Too’, followed by a growing fan favourite, ‘About You’. The latter is a sequel to 2013’s much beloved ‘Robbers’, carrying similar motifs and themes but also sounding like an older sibling to ‘Medicine’ or ‘The Birthday Party’. The song hums with tenderness, a quiet but moving reflection on relationships and the yearning for human connection. 

‘When We Are Together,’ the album’s closer, is also just as gentle as its two preceding tracks. It’s heartfelt and warm, enriched by sweet strings, soothing harmonies, and a piano fadeout that mimics the piano introduction of the opening song. Just as we’ve reached the end, we’re back at the beginning all over again.

But this softness removes any sort of final punch or impact that BFIAFL could have as it reaches its conclusion. The song lacks the cinematic quality of ABIIOR’s ‘I Always Wanna Die (Sometimes)’, instead making BFIAFL feel like it’s tapered off at the very end.

And yet, maybe that’s the point. This quiet ending suits the purpose of the album and the band’s aims to cut back on their ambitious streak. BFIAFL is a snapshot, a captured moment in time. It’s not trying to blow you away, it’s trying to get you to relate. It wants you to feel. 

That’s why I think BFIAFL is some of the finest work that The 1975 have produced yet. The band isn't trying to be revolutionary. They're just returning to what they do best whilst incorporating what they’ve learned from previous experimentation, and the album benefits greatly from that. To paraphrase Steinbeck, now that they don’t have to be perfect, they can be good. They can just be. Free from the pressure of having to prove themselves, this is The 1975 at their very best.