“Masseduction” is the Sound of Assimilation

Let’s start with this: Annie Clark (aka St. Vincent) is a ludicrously talented artist. She can rip on the guitar, she writes songs that are simultaneously catchy and weird, and she’s extremely charismatic as a singer. She has always struck me as an artist who could basically make whatever kind of music she wants because she has so much talent and versatility.

So part of why her newest album, Masseduction, disappoints me is because I keep thinking about what could have been. Clark’s prodigious gifts make her a potentially singular artist, but on this album she seems content to sound like everyone else. While previous albums by her like Actor (which I think is her best work) were whimsical and had contrasts in her guitar-playing and indie pop stylings, Masseduction sounds more like a generic pop album that covers really tired subject matter — I’m not sure if you’re all aware of this, but apparently Los Angeles is a sleazy place with lots of drugs, sex, and plastic surgery.

This doesn’t hurt as much as it could because I saw it coming when Clark became famous (by my definition, which is that people are interested in who you date) and enlisted in-demand producer Jack Antonoff (aka That Guy From Fun) for the album. That Guy From Fun has cashed in on America’s desire for schmaltzy pop with obvious lyrics, and while I can’t pretend to know how much he influenced the songs on this album, I’m more than comfortable blaming him for some aspects. He has a co-writer credit on “Pills,” which has lyrics that are about as subtle as a burlap sack full of hammers, and I also sense his grubby paws on the back half of the album, which is full of sappy ballads from the Fun playbook.

In general, the lack of subtlety on the album is what bothers me — the themes all feel obvious and done before, and the music itself sounds more like a big pop production than an individual statement that showcases Clark’s talents. That said, this album has some good moments, because Clark is too talented to make completely worthless music. “Los Ageless” has been certified as a jam by the jam-certification committee (of which I’m a member), “Slow Disco” is a nice ballad even if it sounds a bit out of place on the album, and “Young Lover” sounds like a classic St. Vincent track with a sweet chorus that is undercut by some distorted guitar.

Still, even with those high points, my ultimate takeaway with this album is that it feels like a five-star chef who is working at a Chili’s. The music on Masseduction just isn’t befitting of an artist with this much ability, and at times it sounds complacent, like she is coasting through the songs. St. Vincent doesn’t owe us anything, and it’s hard to begrudge an artist for making a pop album to get her art to more fans — in fact, one of my lingering inner conflicts over this album is that I’m glad more casual listeners will discover this artist who is legitimately talented and weird, and not of the traditional pop music mold. So maybe I’m just selfish for wanting something that was weirder, more subtle, and more like the St. Vincent whose music I’ve loved for years instead of this slick pop album.

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith’s “The Kid” Sounds Like Life

Childhood is a subject rarely discussed in music, for obvious reasons: musicians are adults who are writing about their current grown-up exploits, and it’s sometimes hard to articulate the feelings we all had as little kids in music. Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith’s newest album, The Kid, is inspired by the four stages in the Hindu dharma, and it instantly took me back to those feelings of childhood. Its sound is a perfect reflection of the young mind: full of wonder, imagination, and possibility.

Smith is a prolific composer whose work I was largely unfamiliar with before this album. She’s known for using fluttering synths to make music that is light and airy, but also a little psychedelic. The Kid incorporates a wide instrumental palette; her trademark synths are joined by flutes and horns which, along with her layered vocals and off-kilter rhythms, give this album a playful toybox-like feeling. This suits the album’s early themes of learning, being a kid, and discovering the world and your place in it. One of the lyrics on the second track, “An Intention,” sums up how awe-inspiring the process of discovery can be: “I feel everything at the same time.”

A really smart aspect of this album is how the childhood themes of discovery and wonderment are paralleled by Smith, who is using her modular synthesizers as her own vehicle for exploration. Her vocals and lyrics are much more pronounced on The Kid than in her previous work, so you hear her growing as an artist by learning to make music in a different way, mirroring the album’s concept of a kid who starts as nothing but a name before growing into a complete person. This also tracks with her career: she learned to play her Buchla synthesizers after being lent them by a neighbor and now seems to have complete mastery over her tools. While this could easily feel like a detached artist assembling sounds, Smith feels like she is a part of this music in a very primal way because she has that connection with her instruments.

Eventually, The Kid moves past the early stages of childhood into songs with more existential themes that are reminiscent of adolescence. “In a World, but Not of the World” is my favorite of these tracks; backed by a marching beat and twinkly synths, Smith’s lyrics remind me of when I was a teen who enjoyed questioning things I learned in childhood: “I love it when I think I know something and then I find out it’s the opposite. I’m in love with contradicting myself.” The whole album builds up to the final tracks, where the inherently selfish process of discovering the self is replaced by caring for someone else. “I Will Make Room For You” describes finding love or companionship, but in the same brainy terms as the rest of the album: “All I want is to live my whole life for a chance to explore the unknown with you.”

Possibly the highlight of The Kid is its poignant closing track, “To Feel Your Best,” which deals with the fallout of caring for somebody and knowing that eventually they’ll be gone. It’s a melancholy ending that feels like even more of a gut-punch given the tracks that came before, as all the learning and growing eventually leads to heartbreak. However, there is also a spiritual, peaceful element to the song. I think Smith recognizes there is some beauty to the life cycle and how everyone has different experiences that bring us to the same place.

This album is an incredible balancing act, the work of a composer who has put thought into every note. It is smart without being pretentious, experimental and quirky without being too obscure, emotional without being sentimental. It took me back to when I was younger without being nostalgic and simply relying on recycled sounds. As insane as this is to say, Smith made an album that captures life.

Chelsea Wolfe Soundtracks Our Apocalypse On “Hiss Spun”

If the world really is ending, Chelsea Wolfe’s new album, Hiss Spun, is a fitting soundtrack. Wolfe’s music is not particularly political, instead focusing inward on the darkest parts of ourselves, yet this album feels weirdly timely. As massive hurricanes crash the coasts and we reach the precipice of nuclear war because two idiot leaders can’t stop trash-talking each other like grade-schoolers, the turbulence and doom in Wolfe’s music reflects a dark world that is on the verge of complete chaos.

That sense of foreboding pervades every second of Hiss Spun, which impressively manages to be even darker than her previous effort, Abyss, which felt like a concept album about being stuck in a pit and not seeing the sun for 20 years. This is a massive, beautiful monster of an album — the kind that makes other rock albums feel ineffectual and tame by comparison. It pummels the listener with loud guitars and crashing drums while Wolfe’s powerful voice and her poetic, gothic lyrics sometimes struggle to be heard over the din.

What I love about Wolfe’s music lately is how unrestrained and feral it is. She seems to put every bit of herself into every song and note, and it makes these relentless journeys into the void cathartic and meaningful rather than sounding like empty noise. She also has no qualms about embracing drama and theatricality, which stands out in an era where a lot of music is self-consciously “chill” and relaxing. Every song feels like it has life-or-death stakes as Wolfe struggles to prevent her soul from sliding into complete darkness.

Like Abyss, this album uses dynamics heavily, and it’s easy to get lost in its thunderous loud parts or the bewitching folk-inspired sections. But beneath all of that, Wolfe shows an underrated ability as a relatively traditional songwriter who writes real hooks. “16 Psyche,” “Vex” and “Static Hum” are all not so far away from sounding like 90s radio hits, but Wolfe adds enough weirdness and personal touch (plus some growling vocals from Aaron Turner on “Vex”) to make them stand out from other alternative rock imitators. The album’s last track, “Scrape,” is rawer and even more intense than the rest of the album, as Wolfe describes a destructive relationship in blistering detail with less production and noise to hide her pain.

While Hiss Spun is bleak, there is always an inspiring quality for me when an artist really seems to throw all of themselves into the music they’re working on. Wolfe is among the best at that, and her charisma and songwriting ability make her one of the most captivating artists out there. So much music is content to sit in the background; Hiss Spun grabs the listener and doesn’t let go.