ST. VINCENT – Strange Mercy (Part 3)

Brandon went to Wal-Mart and bought himself some ammunition for his .22 hyperbole gun. He then went home, pulled the gun out of the safe in his garage, loaded up, and fired it at the internets. “Strange Mercy is a flawless album.” His words, not mine. Later, he laments the discovery that Annie Clark is his age and that he will never ever be as cool as she.

St. Vincent – “Cruel”(Live on Letterman)

Hear Strange Mercy in its entirety.

From: Brandon Hall
To: Greg Schmidt

Instead of biting my tongue, I’d rather pull out the hyperbole gun. Cocked and loaded, here goes:

Strange Mercy is a flawless album. If I or this site had any clout at all, that shit would be block quoted like whoa.

Now, allow me to step slightly back from the edge and make a distinction. To say that it is flawless is not necessarily to say that it is somehow transcendent or classic. Merely, that it is without flaws. I can’t find any. I’ve been looking. This is actually the most galling part to me because it doesn’t jibe with a sinking premonition I have that I’ll get to a little later.

On this point of flawlessness, however, I do strongly disagree (as I would have to) with your classification of “Hysterical Strength” as a misstep. The first 15 seconds of electronic rhythm straight from the Kraftwerk playbook are indeed initially disconcerting, but they’re soon met by her stabbing guitar before falling back beneath the ethereal tones of keys, synth, and her admonishing lyrics before returning for a riotous, guitar-charged final 30 seconds of literal hysterical strength. I love that song.

I’m with you on just about everything else. I didn’t make the connection to Sea Change with “Year of the Tiger,” but I can see how you would get there. Personally, from that song, beyond the beautiful composition, I just love how she introduces once, quietly, and in the background at the beginning, “Oh, America, can I owe you one?” setting up that powerfully snide refrain at the end of the song after delivering lines like “Italian shoes, like these rubes know the difference. Suitcase of cash in the back of my stick shift.” I mean, “fuck you!” right? (Not you, Greg.) “Oh, America. Can I owe you one?” ZOOOOM! I just love that even this sweet, lilting, unassuming closing track is still so secretly angry.

And as long as I’m making my way backwards through the album, I have to mention “Dilettante,” where I’m pretty sure Clark is propositioning the prophet, Elijah: “Oh, Elijah. Don’t make me wait. What is so pressing, you can’t undress me, anyway?” But then, but then, the song takes off into the stratosphere in these beautifully lush sonic textures that lift me off my feet like nothing since Beach House’s Teen Dream, but really reminds me of Air’s “Run” from Talke Walkie, and it is only my second favorite moment on the album.

My first? That angry, tortured breakdown in the title track, my favorite of these deliriously good 11 songs, where she and the guitar match intensity to sing “If I ever meet that dirty policeman who roughed you up, no I, I don’t know what.” Oh. I can listen to this over and over again. I do.

Strange Mercy Teaser 2 (again, because it’s awesome)

Now, I’m going to stop myself before going through every song, though I want to and I most definitely could. But the song preceding “Dilettante” is “Champagne Year,” which she references here and earlier in the album on “Neutered Fruit.” Your Champagne Year, as you may know, is the year your age and the date of your birth match up. Well, Annie is actually just coming to the end of her Champagne Year as it turns out. She turned 28 last September 28th. This was actually really surprising to me. I had thought, I had hoped, she was older than me. But dude, she’s my age. She’s less than a month older than me. Don’t you hate when that happens? The coolest woman I will never have a shot with is mocking my late-bloomery-ness and perpetual lameness.

But it also makes me understand a little better why this album strikes such a cord with me. The lyric you brought up in “Cheerleader” — “I’ve played dumb, when I knew better, tried so hard, just to be clever” — not only explains in large part this album, but also describes my own creative sojourn through my 20s. I was never and probably will never be as good at anything as Annie Clark is good at being St. Vincent, but I’ve spent a good portion of my 20s trying to be the most clever writer I know, furious that I couldn’t be the next Charlie Kaufman or P.T. Anderson. In this context, her debut, Marry Me, makes so much more sense. I love that album but it did try too hard. Too hard to be witty, too hard to be radio friendly, too hard to be cool.

Strange Mercy in a lot of ways seems to say “fuck all.” It’s certainly more personal and more honest than either of her two previous efforts, musically and lyrically. It’s weird and difficult and often, as with “Hysterical Strength,” comes from somewhere way out in left field and she might not win many fans that don’t already think she’s the bees knees, though I hope many more people are like you, Greg, but it’s always visceral. It burns and seethes with a tangible fire and frustration that I, at 28, know all too well.

But now to that premonition I mentioned so many words ago. I fear my relationship with this album may be fleeting. I don’t think it’s a classic, but yet, I love everything about it. In a couple weeks or sooner, I’ll find something new and move on. Granted, there are only a handful of albums that truly stand the test of time, but what is it about those albums that manages to achieve such staying power? Such classic status? And what is missing from Strange Mercy? Is it too left field? Too obtuse?

And what of Annie Clark, now that you’ve caught up on her career? Does she have room to grow, to become more famous, more successful, or is she near her ceiling? Does she just need the right iPod commercial? (Probably.)

“Did you ever ride a bear for me? Did you ever really care?”
Brandon

Strange Mercy is out 9/13 via 4AD. Order from Amazon or iTunes.