MGMT: Head Games

In two strange years, MGMT have gone from campus lark to psych-pop superstars and ragtag fashion icons. Now these merry pranksters have to figure out how to keep the career they didn't even know they wanted, without losing their minds.
Photographs by Nick Haymes

Andrew Vanwyngarden and Ben Goldwasser are talking in hushed, hurried tones to a stuffed border collie. Crouching low, noses to snout, they take turns mumbling into a BlackBerry and then holding it up to the puppy's left ear. Their furrowed brows and tender pats suggest concern.

Eagles of Death Metal, 'Heart On' (Downtown)

Transcending side-project goof, rock dudes get joyously crude.

When Josh Homme slithers into his Baby Duck persona as drummer for Eagles of Death Metal, he's giddily set free, unfettered by the pillaging, Viking-frontman duties of Queens of the Stone Age.

The Dears, 'Missiles' (Dangerbird)

The art of lightening up eludes melodramatic gloom duo.

These swooning, Smiths-worshipping Canadians set aside the overweening sadness of their early recordings for 2006’s fantastic Gang of Losers. But troubled sessions for Missiles led to the departure of most of the band, leaving married couple Murray Lightburn and Natalia Yanchak to indulge in some claustrophobic soul-searching.

RTX, 'JJ Got Live RATX' (Drag City)

The eternal (winking?) embodiment of Sunset Strip scum.

When RTX frontcougar Jennifer Herrema and ex-boyfriend Neil Hagerty split up the perennially underrated Royal Trux, he took the experimental guitar meander (for his barrage of solo and Howling Hex releases), and she took the sex, drugs, and Aerosmith albums.

Prodigy, 'Product of the 80's' (Dirt Class)

Mobb Deep’s dark mastermind reminisces from behind bars.

Product of the 80’s is the Queens rapper’s second release since he’s become a product of the New York State Department of Correctional Services (where he’s serving three and a half years on an illegal weapons charge). Recorded in conjunction with his bleak, keyboard-laden H.N.I.C. Pt.

Hank III, 'Damn Right Rebel Proud' (Sidewalk)

Satan-lovin’ hillbilly royalty still waiting to inherit family talent.

Four albums in, Bocephus’ boy continues to pretend that the Williams family tradition can make up for his inability to carry a tune. Damn Right Rebel Proud, typically, raises less convincing hell than plenty of current mainstream Nashville product. Muffled train chugs and minor-key gloom make him tolerable in psychobilly mode, and his class-consciousness means well.

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