Culture

Grade: A

When an album is self-titled it usually signals an attempt at a self-defining statement. The cover of St. Vincent’s fourth album depicts Annie Clark perched atop a pink throne; deadpan, confident and menacing. With her hair now dyed a blonde-grey and styled in eccentric fashion, she resembles an evil mastermind – Einstein and Cruella de Vil’s lovechild, if you will. Following in the footsteps of art-pop icons such as David Bowie and David Byrne, Annie Clark seems to have truly embraced the performance aspect of being a musician, using her image as a vehicle to further personify her art. Musically, however, and unlike Bowie – who over time garnered the nickname “The Musical Chameleon” – St. Vincent’s latest output is not so much a reinvention, but an evolution; a progression which seems to have reached another interesting stage of development.

The album begins with “Rattlesnake,” a robotic, art-pop track centred on a fuzzed-out synth groove. “Am I the only one, in the only world?” Annie sings, recalling a real life encounter with a rattlesnake, while naked in a Texan desert. After a few listens, the record almost follows a similar model to Michael Jackson’s Thriller or Prince’s Purple Rain, with its combination of groove-based numbers and heart-felt ballads. In St. Vincent’s case, manic, distorted-funk gems are contrasted with ethereal, plastic-soul ballads. However, aurally, some layer of crunch and fuzz ties them all together. Songs like “Huey Newton” and “I Prefer Your Love,” for example, would not be out of place on a Prince album, with their sweeping, angelic vocals, and moody, jazz-soul melodies. However, the rhythmic, crunchy percussion, and the sometimes-angular instrumentation, introduces a unique, quite machine-like dynamic to the music.

Lyrically, the songs seem to revolve around human behaviour and existence, addressing the mundane social norms of today’s society. “Digital Witness,” for example, draws attention to society’s addiction to documenting and sharing everyday events on social media, whereas songs like ‘Prince Johnny’ touch on artifice and a longing for identity. In comparison to her preceding albums such as Cruel Mercy and Actor, St. Vincent feels and sounds more coherent; building upon her already consistent song writing. By no means is this record unfamiliar to some of Annie Clark’s previous work, but it is definitely bolder and more focused in terms of what it wants to achieve. As Ms Clark herself puts it, “I wanted to make a party record you could play at a funeral.”