Matt Warrilow gushes something fierce about the new St. Vincent record.
At times like this, I wish I was a better writer (probably not the best way start to a review).
I lack the extensive vocabulary needed to produce a concise and constructed review of something. To write some beautiful and meaningful, which in turn gives an album, a piece of work that an artist spends months of their life invested in, the merit it is due.
Where I want to describe how in a world where dull, stupid hair people like Ellie Goulding, or horrible, ear-raping ‘rappers’ such as Azelia Banks and Brooke Candy can infiltrate our senses without warning, somebody who is able to craft pop music in an interesting way can undeservedly be lost in the mist. Instead, I just think ‘yeah, good this’. So here’s my poorly written summary instead.
St. Vincent is probably better than you. I figured this out even before listening to this record. How you ask? Well…
1) She’s bezzies with David Byrne.
DAVID FUCKING BYRNE! Imagine being able to borrow his suit when you’re going to a mate’s wedding or having the chance to learn all of his sweet moves, so when the disco starts you can dance like this:
2) She’s better at football than you
Just watch this:
In fact, she’s better than most of the squad of the team I support.
3) She’s better at guitar than you’ll ever be
4) Her hair
It’s incredible, mainly for it looking like this guy’s:
Sure, when listening to the Saint of Vincent in the past, I’ve had some doubting thoughts. Do I actually like this? Am I just enjoying it because people say it’s dead good? That I have no taste myself and I just like to follow the crowd? Am I really enjoying her weird ‘eccentric’ bits?
Coming from an upbringing of Motown, along with loving Michael Jackson and Justin Timberlake, nothing, in my eyes, beats a good, well formed, pop song. It’s a seriously difficult craft. St. Vincent would kind of get it, then do some twiddling, go off a tangent, and I’d be lost in a world of thoughts consisting of ‘what the fuck is going on?’, ‘why’s is not in 4×4 anymore?’ or ‘I was enjoying the handclaps, why has she replaced it with the sounds of glaciers moving instead?’
But this time around, she’s got it right.
She’s set up a date between her eccentricity and her pop sensibilities, they’ve gone to a nice seafood place, and after sharing some mussels and a nice white wine, they get it on. And they get it on good, as what comes out of the eccentricity’s ‘wang’ and the pop sensibilities ‘nature’s pocket’ is a baby that makes noises like Dirty Projectors at their most accessible.
So at the end of all this, you will have learnt three key things:
Number 1: You should listen to/buy the new St. Vincent record, as it’s her best yet
Number 2: St. Vincent is better than you, no matter how hard you try. So give up.
Number 3: I can’t write for shit.
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