St. Vincent

St. Vincent

Strange Mercy

4AD Records

Release Date: 09.13.11

Rating: 8.0

Annie Clark, better known under her moniker of St. Vincent, released her third full length album this September. Packed with her unorthodox and unique brand of vibrant indie rock, cabaret jazz and electro-fused ballads, the album is aptly named Strange Mercy.

Clark is primarily a guitarist. An aggressive guitarist. A bold, vicious guitarist, and her chunky distortion-filled guitar arrangements are the engines that drive the songs on Strange Mercy. Sprinkled throughout are riveting feedback inputs, unexpected electro spikes and surgically placed tonal noise. It's like a guitar distortion sundae with LED lights on top and even as such a sonic delicacy, the album stay accessible.

Behind each gritty guitar riff are Clark's signature eeirie vocals. Coded, crypic lyrics come as poetic paraphrases. The song "Surgeon" invites "Best, fine surgeon/ Come cut me open." This serves as a nod to Marilyn Monroe--the line was found in her journal. Other songs like "Chloe in the Afternoon" allude to fighting with the crutch of promiscuity, while the title track explore the wonderment of unexpected grace.

A drawback to this album is the apparent lack of any real standout tracks. Most songs sound as co-stars to an absent shining star. As such a lead character is missing, I have to say on the first spin, the album didn't grab me.

The inexplicable pull for Strange Mercy is the depth and weight of what is being conveyed and the novelty of musical combinations that Clark is attempting. These aren't pop songs, they are pages from Clark's diary that highlight emotions of frustration, lost innocent and atonement that all of us go through on some level. The electro-noise infustions make this new music, not a recycle of something we continue to hear as radio fodder.

Kate Bush - 50 Words for Snow

Kate Bush
50 Words for Snow
Anti/Epitaph
Released 11.21.11

8.8



Kate Bush's album arrives like the first true gift of winter--deep and complex enough to last us through the chilly cold season. The first listen of "50 Words for Snow" turned into a three hour marathon, with each song growing and forming more nuances at every listen. By the time spring rolls around, we'll have these songs imprinted on our hearts.

These songs are deceptively simple, "Among Angels" is just Bush and a lonely piano, but they are are meaty in flavor and tone. Her vocals are haunting and composed, she never screams, but there is a perfect tension that reigns across the tracks. The tracks are lengthy (each clocking over six minutes), and this gives Bush the time to fully explore and express her visions.

Said visions indeed include snow, but also about the wildness of the primal. "Wild Man" brings to mind a man adept at surviving among the animals in the frigid wilderness. Such a man is risky to love and even more treacherous to be with. "Snowed in at Wheeler Street" is a duet of the contained frenzy of two lovers that both need each other and burn each other out. Their cries of "I don't want to lose you again" are heartbreaking and doomed.

This is the kind of album early Tori Amos fans would kill to hear; a rich tapestry of sound giving way to a complex heart. "50 Words for Snow" speaks to the quiet and empty places in life, gently shining a dim light in dark corners as not to scare the beasts that live there.

We Were Promised Jetpacks 11.13.11 Wonder Ballroom PDX

New writer Amanda goes to see We Were Promised Jetpacks and files this report:

We've been promised a lot in music. Promises from various artists that will save our soul, rock our world, or even dance our asses off. The covenants are often broken. This show promised to give you and hour of a lead singer immersing you in Scottish accent and sorrow backed by guitars. If you left diappointed, you are an asshole.

We Were Promised Jetpacks sublimate their broken relationships into sad songs reminiscent of your last failed relationship of want and desire. While most of the audience seemed more familiar with their first album, their new songs bathed me in Scottish Gaelic glory. Am I fixated on lead singer Adam Thompson's accent? Yes, some may even call it obsessed. Go ahead, I dare you to listen to their songs and not want more or 'accidentally' put them on repeat.