ST. VINCENT – Strange Mercy (Pts 1-4)

St. Vincent’s third album, Strange Mercy, may be her best and may be one of the best of the year. Brandon goes about falling in love Annie Clark all over again. Greg searches for a craving that never comes. The full dialectic after the jump.

St. Vincent – “Cruel”

Hear Strange Mercy in its entirety.

From: Brandon Hall
To: Greg Schmidt

I wanted to start this discussion by describing Annie Clark in some lyrical, visual fashion that would do her and the music of her St. Vincent project justice. Initially, I was going to write that she was like the Grim Reaper dressed up as Mary Poppins for Halloween – a sweet, angelic visage in a world of monsters, harboring an evil terror just beneath the surface, a grim truth, if you will, that bubbles up only occasionally to remind you that this sweet exterior is really just an illusion.

I mean, watch this video of her covering Big Black at the Bowery in NYC last May:

I’ve seen that video at least 10 times and it still gives me chills. Annie Clark might be the fucking coolest person ever. I’m just speculating, but that’s my takeaway from that performance.

However, I don’t feel like the Grim Reaper/Mary Poppins description really does her or the music justice, because it implies that she is the agent of some darkness or evil, when, as St. Vincent, she seems more put upon, beset on all sides by cruelty and injustice. Furthermore, one can’t escape the fact that Clark looks like a life-sized doll – tiny frame, enormous eyes, black curly hair, blushed cheeks. And so I think the most apropos metaphor for St. Vincent’s music is that of a doll from Toy Story 3, trapped amongst a collective of discarded and abandoned toys in a fascist and tyrannical system, tortured and beaten mercilessly by those who are supposed to love her, and through it all, smiling.

Yes. That does the trick.

Strange Mercy is the third album from St. Vincent. It’s difficult and dramatic and thrilling. I’ve been addicted to it for the past two weeks. I liken the music to a kind of inverse shoegaze. Where an album like Loveless was built around a concept of beauty fighting and emerging through the muck, St. Vincent’s music is always about the darkness lurking around and hiding within the beauty. Never before has that tension been more profound than on Strange Mercy.

Yet while many critics are predicting Clark’s breakout into mainstream popularity, an outcome that seems, given her looks and coolness and prodigious talent, to be destined, this, her third album, is actually more obtuse and abstract than either of her albums before it. In fact, her trajectory has been consistent: each album more complex and recondite than the last. And while, when listening to Strange Mercy, I’ve had occasion to think, “Wow. This is what music should sound like,” I can hardly imagine any of these songs finding regular play at a Starbucks let alone the radio. Maybe lead single “Cruel” or “Year of the Tiger.” But only for a week. And only at a really hip Starbucks.

Mainstream popularity? Her best shot at that was with some of the catchier, in fact euphorically so, songs on her debut, Marry Me. Feist and Cat Power, she is not. This is a wonderful thing. For me, at least.

Greg, I have so much I want to say about this album, I hardly know where to begin. Since you’ve only recently been introduced to St. Vincent, though, I feel I shouldn’t say too much right out of the gate. I’d like to hear how someone fresh to Annie Clark’s world is adjusting.

“If I ever meet that dirty policeman who roughed you up / No, I, I don’t know what,”
Brandon

St. Vincent – Strange Mercy Teaser 3 (because it’s awesome)

St. Vincent – “Strange Mercy” (performance at The Met 8.25.2011)

From: Greg Schmidt
To: Brandon Hall

Until now, “The Strangers” off of Actor was the only St. Vincent track I’d heard (I think off a KCRW sampler). The last few days I’ve been playing catch-up with her catalog. After listening to her three albums, I think I’m ready to jump on the Annie Clark boat. Musically, Strange Mercy moves away from the lush arrangements, cutesy vocals and theatrical sound of Marry Me that I associate with Joanna Newsom and Van Dyke Parks. That sound has never appealed to me. Actor is a really interesting album, but I still find it stuck in that familiar Feist/Hanne Huckelberg territory. It’s not that Strange Mercy is more unique or original, I just find it a more complex and interesting sound, or, at the very least, more appealing to my ears. The album has an edge and grit unmatched by her previous work. I like the percussive quality of her lyrics and the way she uses repetition to add to the rhythm. While there’s still some familiar arrangement work, it plays better when contrasted by the mindless drive of the electronic beats and fuzzy bass.

I was also struck by a stark difference in Clark’s attitude and character when compared to previous albums. The song “Cheerleader” sums it up:  “I’ve played dumb, when I knew better, tried so hard, just to be clever.” She no longer seems to be working to dazzle us with her wit. The lyrics on Strange Mercy are sparser, more poetic, less gimmicky, and more revealing.

Strange Mercy is an enjoyable, engaging listen. I love the mix of acoustic and electronic instruments, like the guitar against the drum and bass on “Neutered Fruit.” And Annie Clark’s calm and controlled voice is a wonderful contrast to the spastic electronic beats. Really, the only misstep is “Hysterical Strength” which loses itself in its cold and monotonous drone. My personal favorite is “Year of the Tiger,” which sounds like a B side from Beck’s Sea Change.

“I’ve had good times/With some bad guys,”
Greg

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

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

St. Vincent Being Fucking Boss (covering Tom Waits’ Big Black Mariah)

From: Greg Schmidt
To: Brandon Hall

Great observation about your 20s. I, too, feel that mine were spent trying to impress and demonstrate my uniqueness. I’ve come to the realization that, unlike what I was told in 1st grade, I am not a special snowflake, and it’s a wonderful feeling! My 30s seem way more chilled out and I’m finally enjoying the creative process as opposed to obsessing about the rewards. Since Annie Clark is obviously some kind of wunderkind, it makes sense that she arrived at this realization 2 years before I did. Or at least she’s enough of a free thinker to decide to embrace it before a milestone birthday.

It’s a liberating feeling to shrug off those weights and can lead to some really great art. But I should point out that the need to be bold and stand out from the pack can also lead to greatness. I think this is important in regards to your question about whether this album is classic and whether St. Vincent can progress. Often times, when a musician from an iconic band moves on as a solo artist, they fall into a slump. Now that they have nothing to prove, their music suffers as they keep remaking the same album, which usually equates to albums that are good but not great (see Stephen Malkmus*). Could the same happen to Annie Clark now that she’s too comfortable? Maybe. And telling her that her album is “perfect” isn’t going to help things, so cut it out, Brandon! Just kidding.

One thing I know for certain is that I don’t crave this album. I enjoy putting it on while I read, but I don’t lie on the floor with my eyes closed getting lost in it. And if you took this album away from me, I’m not sure I would race out to Best Buy to pick up another copy.

Clark’s collaborated before, so maybe there are productive years ahead involving her and a group.

“Best find a surgeon / Come cut me open”
Greg

*[Stephen, please forgive me. I would gladly listen nothing but “good” Stephen Malkmus records for the rest of my life and be content.]

From: Brandon Hall
To: Greg Scmidt

I’m opposed to the idea that Annie’s best stuff will be found in a band other than St. Vincent. St. Vincent’s where it’s at. Long live SV.

Please don’t go to Best Buy to buy any albums. Is it because it’s close to you? It is, isn’t it? Right on La Brea. Goddammit. At least go to Amoeba.

I’m sad that my craving for Strange Mercy seems so short lived. I don’t want to move on, yet here I go.

“I’ve seen America with no clothes on.”
Brandon

From: Brandon Hall
To: Annie Clark

I love you, too, Annie! I love you, too!

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