Fluxblog Weekly #100: J.I.D, Spiral Stairs, Quelle Chris, Father John Misty
March 20th, 2017
Trying To Tell The Truth
J.I.D featuring Mereba “All Bad”
J.I.D is primarily a rapper, and he raps very well throughout his new record The Never Story, but when I was choosing a song to feature here I had to go with this track where he’s mostly singing. “All Bad” has the tone of a sexy slow jam, but the lyrics are about a relationship that’s breaking down in slow motion. The emotions are complicated and messy on both sides, and neither seem to be ready to confront the other’s version of “the truth.” Mereba’s verse is a bit more confrontational in tone, but you can still hear a lot of love mixed in with the hurt. Hollywood JB’s production ties it all together with a gorgeous but low-key organ part that sounds like it’s being played slowly with a bit of caution, mirroring the way both singers are treading lightly around the most painful subjects in order to spare the other’s feelings. There’s a woozy feeling to it too, especially at the end when the keyboard part is suddenly pitched up as it’s being played.
Buy it from Amazon.
March 21st, 2017
A Concept Of Love
Spiral Stairs “Emotions”
The last time Spiral Stairs put out a record was about eight years ago, and I reviewed it for Pitchfork. I know the review bothered him a lot, and I don’t blame him. I wrote about how he served as an important foil to Stephen Malkmus in Pavement, and stand by that. I compared their dynamic to that of Milhouse Van Houten and Bart Simpson, which I think is accurate, but also kinda mean. Again, I can’t blame Spiral for hating that review. (For what it’s worth, Milhouse is by far my favorite Simpons character.)
It’s weird knowing that one of the guys in my favorite band personally dislikes me, especially since I have nothing but good feelings about him. Spiral is an underdog I like to root for, and a talent who has been undervalued for getting on 25 years. Part of the problem here is that it’s hard to stand up for Spiral’s gifts without seeming contrary or overzealous. He’s not an idiosyncratic, one-of-a-kind genius like Malkmus. He’s original and interesting in a less obvious way, and connecting with him requires some degree of identification with his particular type of artsy nerdiness and his oddly evasive approach to expressing himself.
Even at his most direct – which accounts for a lot of his new album, Doris and the Daggers – Spiral seems like a guy who wants to say something straightforward, but gets shy and walks that feeling back a bit. Malkmus isn’t much different, actually. But whereas that guy projects a superhuman ease and confidence, Spiral can’t help but seem awkward and self-effacing. This is not a bad thing! My favorite Spiral moment is when he pushes himself to go louder and more plaintive in “Kennel District” – “I wanted to stay there / but you know I needed more than that” – and conveys an aching regret anyone could recognize. Not every line of that song scans, but he wasn’t afraid to make sure the important bits stand out. “That little look in your eye.” “I was busted in my gut that time I said ‘I know it’s true.’” “Why didn’t I ask, why didn’t I ask, why didn’t I ask?” It’s the closest thing Pavement ever came to something that could’ve been in a John Hughes movie, and there’s no way it could’ve come from Malkmus. I can’t imagine Malkmus ever actually experienced the feeling of that song, or at least he didn’t in the way a guy like Spiral could.
“Emotions,” like pretty much all the songs on Doris and the Daggers, has this crisp, sunny tone that is immediately recognizable as Spiral’s aesthetic. It was there in the later Pavement records, and has carried through most of his Preston School of Industry and solo material. It’s become cleaner over time as his playing has become more confident and precise. The new songs sound like little labors of love, you can hear the patience and care that went into them. The guy who used to be even more off-the-cuff than Malkmus has evolved into the type of guy who lives with songs for a while, and invests each with some personal significance. You really can hear eight years of life in the album – ending and starting relationships, watching a kid grow up, moving across the world. It’s like catching up with someone after too long.
Buy it from Amazon.
March 22nd, 2017
Kickin’ The Can But Never Eats The Spinach
Quelle Chris “Popeye”
Quelle Chris’ Being You Is Great, I Wish I Could Be You More Often opens with “Buddies,” a slightly tongue-in-cheek song about self-love that simultaneously pokes fun at narcissism while embracing a healthy self-esteem. I mention this because I’m not writing about that song, but rather the track immediately after it. “Popeye” is the reverse sentiment, with Chris muttering about failure and frustration. He isn’t beating himself up, but he is looking at his life and his art with clear, unsympathetic eyes and questioning a commitment to something that hasn’t resulted in that much. All of this is set against a track built around a vocal loop that feels melancholy but also kinda heroic, like something you’d play in a flashback to leaner times in the life of someone who later became a big deal. Maybe that’s exactly what Chris is trying to get across here.
Buy it from Amazon.
March 23rd, 2017
Horizons That Just Forever Recede
Father John Misty “Pure Comedy”
If you’ve ever been lucky enough to karaoke with Rob Sheffield, you may have seen his take on John Lennon’s “God.” If you’re not familiar with the song, it’s this ballad in which Lennon runs down a list of people and concepts he doesn’t believe in, some of which he pronounces in rather dubious ways. He denounces the Bible, Jesus, Hitler, and Buddha before getting to the big thing in the climax: Holy shit, John Lennon doesn’t believe in BEATLES!!! It’s a good song, but also one that is unintentionally funny in its overeagerness to be provocative. Rob performs the song as if he’s doing stand up comedy, and draws on the spirit of a “truth teller” like Lenny Bruce deliberately trying to rile up a crowd. Rob plays it like someone delighting in a heel turn while having a smug confidence that they’re the one who is right about everything. It’s hilarious.
I think Father John Misty is coming from a pretty similar place with “Pure Comedy.” It’s a similar sort of piano-centric ballad, and though FJM is considerably less self-absorbed and solipsistic in his lyrics than John Lennon, he’s going for the same sort of TRUTH BOMBS in his words. Everything in “Pure Comedy” casts the human condition as a joke, including the fact that it’s a straight white guy from America who’s letting you in on the joke. Even if you’re inclined to think FJM is a douche, his case for the absurdity of humanity is pretty tight and surprisingly subtle for a song that’s expressing a deep alienation from society at large. A lot of what makes this song work both musically and lyrically is that the song is always giving you an indication that Misty isn’t getting much pleasure from this nihilistic outlook, and genuinely wants people to be better than this. Seeing all of this as a big joke is a coping strategy and a defense mechanism against all the horror and idiocy in the world, and you only need to do that if you sincerely care.
Buy it from Amazon.