St. Vincent - Krokodil

(4AD, 2012)

First -- stop reading and go to your record store and buy this 7", right now. It's a Record Store Day special release and there might still be one on the shelf for you. (At the time of writing, Rhino Records in Claremont has approximately three copies left.) You won't regret it.

Now -- okay. It's time to talk about St. Vincent.

Krokodil kicks ass. It's the first official signal of a direction she's been hinting at over the last few years: loud, dark, heavy, ugly. It rules. Actor, of course, was darker than her debut, the lyrics loaded with even more foreboding and entendre and general uncanniness, the music harder and more dissonant and more messy. Strange Mercy continued the theme, cut out the baroquey flourishes, made the guitars crunchier. In a way, the arc of Clark's career has been a closing of the gap between her dark-since-day-one lyrics (go listen to Marry Me again, and pay attention this time) and the music, which has been playing catch up. But this is something altogether new.

Except that it's not. Anyone tuned in to St. Vincent as a live act has seen (or at least seen on YouTube) a slew of disastrously awesome covers of gnarly songs by gnarly artists. Most notably Big Black, Tom Waits, and The Pop Group. When she blew everyone's brains out playing "Kerosene" a year ago, the web was rife with surprise: WHAT IS THIS CUTE LITTLE PIXIE GIRL DOING PLAYING BIG BLACK? WHO KNEW SHE COULD SHRED SO MUCH? WHERE IS THIS DARKNESS COMING FROM? These were stupid reactions for these reasons: 1) She has been shredding, always. 2) As mentioned above, violence and the eerie have always been present in St. Vincent, at least/especially the lyrics. And most crucially (this point explains the others) 3) People react this way in large part because Annie Clark is female. We're not shocked because an artist who makes experimental pop music (and it is, admittedly and deceptively, poppy) is playing a Steve Albini song -- we're shocked because it's a CUTE LITTLE NICELOOKING DOE-EYED GIRL playing Steve Albini.

The first problem might have been the Marry Me album art. From that moment on, much of Clark's career has been defined within this realm -- cute, beautiful, charming girl first; virtuosic composer and facemelting guitarist second ("an adorably spunky guitar prodigy" - Boston Globe). When I saw her on Thursday, every gap in the set was filled with audience members yelling about how much they loved Annie, how beautiful she was, asking her to marry them. This happens at every St. Vincent show. But something else happened, too.

She closed with "Krokodil". Clark walked off the stage and onto the crowd, Iggy Pop style, screaming into the mic over the song's rumbling guitar line. She stood on shoulders and sung half the song, then slammed herself backwards onto the crowd's uplifted hands. She finished the rest of the song crowdsurfing, throwing herself flat onstage at its finish. I was certain it was an '80s punk cover. Maybe Bad Brains? early Fear? another Big Black song?

Nope. And today we have the indisputable proof, on shimmering red vinyl. Krokodil sounds like those bands I just said. Those bands kick ass. The B-side, "Grot", is an even heavier track, a slow, sludgy, growling antiestablishment mess. An angel chorus shines through the song's end, but how'd'ya like them lyrics? St. Vincent kicks ass.

Gang Gang Dance - Eye Contact

(4AD, 2011)

Saint Dymphna, the predecessor to Eye Contact, was my album of the year for 2008. Which means that I bring expectations to the table. Gang Gang Dance has for a long time been swirling around in my life. I bought God’s Money at the Virgin Megastore in Time Square when Erin and I went to New York City for our honeymoon (that old thing). There’s a history here. I remember talking to one of the gang (gang) after their set at the Urban Lounge in Salt Lake City, about how it was like the wild wild west out here in a good way and how, even then, there was a vision for something that could transcend the avant, everything-Animal-Collective-related chatter of the day. And here we are now, in the middle of 2011, with Eye Contact, another wind-change for a band constantly fidgety, constantly on the move, constantly inventing. I can’t help but relate the album to Destroyer’s most recent effort, Kaputt. The way the both albums dive headlong into everything ridiculous and cheesy about music and come out the other side with amazingness. Eye Contact probably shouldn’t work. Erin said that Saint Dymphna didn’t work. I disagreed, obviously. And Eye Contact somehow also works. Even with all the glammy, synthetic, new-aginess of it all, it’s still got percussion upon percussion and rubber basslines and massive, ascending melodies. Gang Gang Dance will not burn out. They will burst hot forever. Eye Contact is forest music with eye glitter, but it’s no less primal for it, no less dangerous. Gang Gang Dance cannot be taken for anything other than Gang Gang Dance: a band fully formed and, with Eye Contact, stalking their peak.

Gang Gang Dance - Adult Goth

Johann Johannsson - Fordlandia

Johann Johannsson
Fordlandia
(11.2008, 4AD)
Verdict = Magnificent in every sense

On Fordlandia, Johannsson combines the instant accessibility of Englaborn with the massively affecting heft of Virugelu Forsetar into a compelling whole. Compounding all his strengths, Johannsson has created something that is immediately engrossing and gorgeously magnetic. The album opener and namesake, “Fordlandia,” is a near 14 minute stand-alone track that shamelessly dives into a viscerally uplifting major chord progression that is so redeeming that it hinges on silliness. Yet dismissing the track on that basis is an easy way to lose out. Anyone can be a jerk, however, to embrace such unabashed beauty in all its cinematic drama, as Johannsson has done here, takes guts. I think the track is amazing myself and is a dynamic moment in relation to the rest of the album because “Fordlandia” feels like the track that you play at the end of the movie when the protagonist marries her man. However, Johannsson leads off with this track before diving into similarly beautiful, but undoubtedly gloomier territory. It’s as if the story starts at some triumphant finale only to reveal things may not have ended up so happily ever after. In fact things turn awry almost immediately when the melodies turn from mischievous to sorrowful to menacing with each successive track. I would continue a description track for track, but for some reason I feel like I would be spoiling the ending. Johannsson’s use of woodwinds and pulsing electronics fit perfectly in the minor key transformation, adding characters to the plot and making Fordlandia Johannsson’s most lyrical album to date. We’ve followed our fair share of neo classical albums on FG this year, but while everyone else seems content to string together a series of individual-yet-similar tracks Johannsson has dreamed up something of a symphonic masterpiece. At moments it touches the visceral intensity of Clint Mansell’s soundtrack for Requiem For A Dream at others it soars into the cloudlike hymnals of an angelic quality (chorals included). The scope of the album as a whole is unmatched not only on the current indie classical landscape but on the landscape of modern music as a whole. Johannsson has set a new standard for neo classical composers that will hopefully be embraced and challenged in the years to come.

-Mr. Thistle

Blonde Redhead - 23

Blonde Redhead
23
(2007, 4ad/Ada)
9.5/10

Once again here's an album we should have reviewed a lot sooner. 23 has already seen an abundance of overwhelmingly good reviews for this album, but for some reason I find it necessary to add mine now. Honestly, good thing I am reviewing this late cause I would have given it a very different score when it first came out. Having been a huge fan of BR's previous releases, 23 was an instant disappointment, and I didn't bother spending much time with the album. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I decided to pick it up again and give it another chance, this time trying not to compare it to their older work, but instead listening to it as its own entity. Proving myself wrong seems to be a hobby of mine. This album started to grow like a cancer until it completely consumed me. Forget the punk edge, bass, and angst of the older albums, 23 is a warm mystical dream, untouched, pure and pristine. The delicate melodies and electronic sheets of sound pared with the relentless drum rhythms turn melancholy to heroic in an everchanging beautiful lush soundscape. The male vocals have greatly improved and rival Kazu Makino's in ghostly quality. The album is equally good the entire way through. (something that has never before happened with a BR album) There is no filler here, just ethereal, strangely soft, dream pop thrillers. I wouldn't have guessed it, but this has become my favorite complete album by BR.

-Sassigrass