Album Review: St. Vincent - MASSEDUCTION
Something to keep in mind while listening to MASSEDUCTION (yes it is one word, all
capitalized), the challenging, dense fifth album Annie Clark has released under
her St. Vincent moniker is just how far she has come in a decade.
After stints in both the Polyphonic Spree (remember them?)
and Sufjan Steven’s Illinois-era
touring band, Clark released Marry Me,
her auspicious, precious, and precocious debut in 2007. With each subsequent
solo release (not counting her one-off experiment with David Byrne), Clark has
both built up, and stripped away layers of herself, and her sound.
Marry Me was on my
long list of albums celebrating milestone anniversaries this year that I had
every intention of writing wordy thinkpieces/reflections on, but I could never
just find the time. From what I can recall the last time I listened to it, it
has aged surprisingly well, however Clark’s edges are not as sharp yet—though
it is still caustic, dangerous, and at times, whimsical and theatrical pop
music.
Her edges have grown sharper, and the music more difficult,
over the last ten years. On her last outing, 2014’s self titled, she bleached
the pigment out of her curly mess of black hair, donned capes and cowls, and
transformed herself into some kind of cult leader from the future. It was her
least immediate album as far as the songwriting, but it was her most fully
realized to date—multi-layered and at times frustrating, as Clark traded in her
trademark electric guitar dissonance for synthesizers and drum machines,
creating a cold and mechanical atmosphere while she immersed herself in the
role.
MASSEDUCTION is a
lot of things—it’s her most personal yet, but it is still guarded—as she’s
almost always been. It finds her collaborating with go-to indie pop hit maker
Jack Antonoff, of fun and Bleachers fame, who has worked with everyone from
Taylor Swift, Lorde, Adele, and How to Dress Well’s Tom Krell. It finds her
conjuring the spirits of fallen idols—she’s always been referred to as ‘the
female David Bowie,’ and you can hear his artistic fearlessness and
restlessness resonate throughout in the character and persona she is embodying
this time around. You can also hear echoes of Prince—from the distorted guitar
theatrics that pepper the album, to the slinking and slithering electro-funk,
and most importantly, the conflicted sensual and sexual nature of a number of
these songs.
Clark has always been a private individual. I can recall an
interview in 2011 around the time Strange
Mercy came out, where she blushes at the idea that the lyric “I spent the summer on my back” is about
anything other than depression. This, though, coming from an album that opens
with a vignette about visiting a dominatrix. Six years later, Clark is still
grappling with who she is and what she wants as a sexual being, or if she even
is one. She’s tried to project a veil of androgyny at times, though within
recent years, she’s been linked to and photographed with a number of famous
women including Carrie Brownstein, Kristen Stewart, and Cara Delvingne. Clark
has never publically spoken about any of these relationships, though it is all
too easy to wonder how many of the songs on MASSEDUCTION
are about them.
After all, Clark said the album is about ‘sex, drugs, and
sadness.’
The album opens with a drunk phone call—“Hang on Me” is
woozy, swooning last chance plea. “You
and me, we’re not meant for this world,” she sings through crackling vocal
distortion, assuring that if her lover takes her back, this time it’ll be
better. “I cannot stop the taxi cab from
crashing, and only lovers will survive.”
MASSEDUCTION
careens head first into the electro-shocking funk on one of the album’s many
‘pop’ songs—“Pills,” which is probably going to be one of the most polarizing
of the set. Featuring Delevinge on backing vocals, it was produced by Top Dawg
Entertainment beatmaker Sounwave and is one of the album’s most personal,
though dressed up as something infectious and moderately cloying (the song’s
chorus.) Clark herself admits it’s about small period of her life, and even
with its faults, it’s surprisingly honest and raw (lyrically speaking) and the
music is arranged in such a way to pull the listener into Clark’s whirlwind.
Clark keeps that charged energy level up with the triple
shot of the album’s titular track, the pulsating “Sugarboy,” and the album’s
bombastic second single, “Los Ageless.” It is also here that Clark continues on
with the running themes of the album—“Los Ageless” tackles the end of a
romance: “How could anybody have you and
lose you and not lose their mind?” she bellows during the song’s refrain.
On “MASSEDUCTION,” she is unrelenting with the sexual conflict and imagery—“I can’t turn off what turns me on,” she
coos, and then later, sings of ‘teenage Christian virgins, holding out their
tongues.’
MASSEDUCTION is
structured in such a way that it allows for a slight reprieve from the highly
energetic first half—however, in that reprieve is the album’s darkest and most visceral
moment. Clark won’t discuss who the ‘Johnny’ in her songs is. The name has been
mentioned a number of times throughout her canon, most recently on “Prince
Johnny.” Here, on “Happy Birthday, Johnny,” she drops the St. Vincent character
completely, addressing herself as Annie in one of the starkest lines, and
throughout the tender ballad, you get the sneaking suspicious that Johnny is a
member of her family. If he is, if he isn’t, if he’s real at all—“Doesn’t
everyone know a Johnny?” she said in an interview—it’s one of Clark’s most
haunting compositions, proving she’s one hell of a songwriter and evocative
storyteller.
The album’s second half tosses you right back into that
conflicted, grey area of ambiguous sensuality. “Savior” paints explicit
portraits of kink and sexual fantasy, though it is tough to surmise if it’s a
metaphor for fame and idolatry.
“New York” was the album’s first single—released long before
the announcement of MASSEDUCTION.
Musically speaking, it’s uncharacteristic of Clark. Structured around a
rollicking piano line and a huge, sweeping chorus (thanks Jack Antonoff), it can
be seen as the inverse or at least a companion piece to “Los Ageless”—still a
‘big’ pop song, though not as obvious in its execution. It’s catchy, and fast
moving, swirling around what Clark calls ‘her entire life in a song.’ It’s also
clear on “New York” just how comfortable she’s become working profanity into
her music. It’s something she’s been slowly experimenting with—changing the
“roughed you up” to “fucked you up” from “Strange Mercy” when performed live,
and including an f-bomb somewhere on St. Vincent.
There’s enough language throughout MASSEDUCTION
that my wife wondered if the record came with an advisory lyric sticker (it
doesn’t)1 but Clark muses on the idea of pills in order to fuck,
ill-fiting leather clothing she refers to as shit, and on “New York,” addresses
someone as the “only motherfucking in the city” who will handle her, stand her,
and forgive her.
If MASSEDUCTION is
a record about sex, drugs, and sadness, we’ve covered the first two quite a bit
already—it’s the sadness that arrives as the ending with the simmering and
haunting (literally and figuratively) ballad “Slow Disco,” and the album’s
final track, “Smoking Section.”
“Slow Disco,” structured around a somber string arrangement,
is a remorseful, heartbreaking tale, with Clark recalling the parting of ways
with one of her partners—“I’m so glad I
came, but I can’t wait to leave…Slip my hand, from your hand/Leave you dancing
with a ghost.”
“Smoking Section,” too, is somber and haunting—but in more
menacing, unnerving ways. With piano treatment by Thomas ‘Doveman’ Bartlett and
weighty percussion, the song quickly becomes a dirge that leads you to the
abrupt and conflicted ending of the album. “It’s
not the end,” Clark sings, in a fragile, high register—but it is. It
creates a moment of self-awareness, simply because the record is, in fact,
over, but also it creates a small glimmer of hope, though throughout MASSEDUCTION, there is no resolution.
Nor does there need to be, really.
MASSEDUCTION is
already an album that has confounded listeners and critics. Consequence of
Sound gave it high marks; Pitchfork all but panned it. Upon initial listens, it’s
much more of an immediate and urgent album when compared to St. Vincent, though long gone are the
days of the more accessible and slightly idiosyncratic albums like Actor and Strange Mercy. This record doesn’t so much work to bridge the gap
between ‘art rock’ and ‘art pop,’ though it stops just shy of creating more
space between the two areas. Clark still wants to keep you at an arm’s length,
but she’s also being seduced by the idea of letting her guard down ever so
slightly, and the fragmented yet personal and sexually charged imagery of this
record shows her conflict as both a person with a private life and a successful
musician.
These are difficult times we live in and MASSEDUCTION is a difficult album that,
despite its contemporary pop music trappings, will take patience and time to
unpack and process.
1- It seems worth noting that both “New York” and “Pills”
are branded with a red explicit E in iTunes, and that the album itself does
feature a bent over ass on the front cover (it’s not Clark’s ass, don’t worry.)
MASSEDUCTION is out now via Lomo Vista.
MASSEDUCTION is out now via Lomo Vista.
Comments
Post a Comment