Fluxblog Weekly #197: Interpol, Hand Habits, Lady Lamb, Default Genders
February 4th, 2019
Revision To A Dream
Interpol “Evil”
It used to seem that Paul Banks writing lyrics as though English was his third language was a drawback to Interpol, but over the time it’s now clear this is a feature and not a bug. This man is an expert craftsman of word salads. Some lines are so odd and awkward they make a song more memorable than it would be otherwise, while other lyrics are like Rorschach blots set to music. Banks’ best lines are highly evocative phrases that pop up out of nowhere at the most dramatic moment of a song, like when he belts out “you’re making people’s lives feel less private” midway through “Not Even Jail.” Banks knows that anything sounds intense and serious when sung in his harsh nasal tone, so he has a lot of license for both strangeness and ambiguity. Nonsense sounds better with a paranoid, bug-eyed tone.
I have to say all this because I need you to know that I understand what Banks is all about but still can’t hear “Evil” without my brain trying to sort out a narrative. Like, why is he addressing two different women here? Who is Rosemary, and who is Sandy? Do they know each other? When he asks Sandy “why can’t we look the other way,” is it because he’s cheating on her with Rosemary while he’s out on tour? Or maybe it’s the other way around, and he’s being wrongly accused? He sounds like such a manipulative cad, though. He barely seems to like either woman. Pretty much every line in “Evil” is vivid, but the feelings and settings and details resist all narrative structure. It scrambles memories and chops up moments on a timeline like if Alain Resnais wrote a post-punk song.
Interpol tend to get a lot of credit for creating atmosphere, but not as much for the nuance of their craft as songwriters. “Evil” is a brilliantly composed pop song, and makes the most of the band’s sharp and uptight dynamics while giving space for a loose swing that’s generally absent from their music. This is a song that could stand up well to all sorts of arrangements – it’s not hard to hear this remade as an elegant chamber pop song, or slowed down into more of a sludgy metal dirge. Banks’ verse melody is so lovely that you could play it a lot of ways, but it’s still hard to imagine topping their carefully calibrated balance of aloofness, dumb lust, confusion, and disdain.
Buy it from Amazon.
February 5th, 2019
A Thousand Years Of Feedback
Hand Habits “Placeholder”
“Placeholder” is basically the opposite perspective of R.E.M.’s “The One I Love.” Whereas Michael Stipe sang from the point of view of a cold, manipulative person who toyed with people’s emotions so he could have a “simple prop” to occupy his time, Meg Duffy is the person realizing how little they mean to someone who has used them. The song isn’t angry or even all that sad. It’s more about processing emotions than the feelings themselves. There’s a wistful quality to the music, particularly in the distorted lead guitar lines, but Duffy’s lyrics and vocal performance are cold and logical, like they’re meant to counter this other person with their own icy approach. It sounds like someone who is putting up their guard and hardening their heart. It’s a bit tragic in that way.
Buy it from Bandcamp.
February 6th, 2019
Dream In Dripping Colors
Lady Lamb “Even In the Tremor”
“Even in the Tremor” has a restless, twitchy feeling to it. It’s not quite an anxious energy – it’s more like having more energy and emotion than feels comfortable, and feeling thwarted in your attempts to shake it off. Lady Lamb sings the song with a tough, confident voice. It’s a very “let’s cut the bullshit” tone, and it’s directed as much outward as it is inward. It seems at first that she’s addressing a romantic partner, but upon closer listening it just sounds like she’s mostly just laying into herself and trying to make sense of both her emotional state and her relationship with the past. The chorus really stands out here: “The future kills the present if I let it.” What a wonderfully ambiguous phrase! I tend to not be a very sentimental person and forget a lot, so it sounds reassuring to me. I can imagine a lot of other people would find that notion totally horrifying.
Buy it from Amazon.
February 7th, 2019
Resolutely Superficial Yet Obsessed With The Unseen
Default Genders “Black Pill Skyline”
James Brooks’ lyrics focus on vivid portraits of very contemporary characters, with details so extremely specific that it can make you cringe with recognition even when it’s not even a particularly embarrassing thing. For example, in this song he references the Edith Zimmerman (“that writer from the Hairpin”) profile of Chris Evans and writing trip reports on Erowid, and ends on a semi-ironic “that’s the tea.” Brooks’ tone can get a bit glib, but his empathy is much stronger than his sense of detached irony. Even when he’s singing from the perspective of a bitter, judgmental asshole, he’s not asking you to go “ugh, what an asshole.” He’s more interested in just showing you someone else’s thought processes, and little bits of life that add up to not much other than a dissatisfied person. “Black Pill Skyline,” like all the songs on Main Pop Girl 2019, leans heavily on a very early ‘90s production style, and while that could also feel glib and ironic, it doesn’t quite land that way. Brooks is aware that it can seem that way, but just presents it all with as much sincerity as he can bring to it. It’s not a wink. It’s sustained eye contact.
Buy it from Bandcamp.