Fluxblog Weekly #200: Belinda Carlisle, Royal Trux, Ximena Sariñana, Julia Jacklin
February 25th, 2019
Convincing Eyes, Persuasive Lips
Belinda Carlisle “I Get Weak”
Diane Warren originally wrote this song with Stevie Nicks in mind, and that seems totally absurd to me. I can imagine Nicks’ voice working on the verses, but the big chorus doesn’t square with her aesthetic, and there’s a naive sweetness to the lyrics that feels all wrong for the author of jaded masterpieces like “Gold Dust Woman” and “Dreams.” Belinda Carlisle on the other hand? A perfect fit. Carlisle is extremely good at conveying a very pure sort of love, untainted by cynicism or low expectations.
“I Get Weak” is about lust and a lopsided power dynamic, but there’s an innocence to it too, as Carlisle sings Warren’s words like she’s experiencing this sort of extreme infatuation for the first time. Part of the magic of this song is that the sound of it implies an adult perspective, distinctly different from the more youthful tone of previous Carlisle crush songs like “Mad About You” and “Our Lips Are Sealed.” She’s singing from the point of view of someone who has some stability and composure, enough so that she’s very aware of losing it when she’s with this overwhelmingly sexy person. She never expected this, but she’s absolutely thrilled to give into the feeling. The song is nothing but joyful surrender.
Buy it from Amazon.
February 26th, 2019 3:38am
Someone Throws A Sandwich At You
Royal Trux “Suburban Junkie Lady”
Royal Trux haven’t made an album since literally half my life ago, but here they are, sounding like no time passed at all since they recorded “Sunshine & Grease” and “Blind Navigator.” But it’s not like they have any choice but to be themselves. Neil Hagerty and Jennifer Herrema’s sound is sui generis; a mutant strain of rock aesthetics so peculiar that they sound more like a hyperbolic description of weird music than any other existing rock band. Everything in “Suburban Junkie Lady” is exaggerated and blown out; the vibe is always scuzzy and bewildered. They lock into a groove, but even that feels like chaos. Hagerty mutters most of his vocal parts while Herrema mostly sounds more like she’s singing along to a record she enjoys on her own in her bedroom than actually fronting a band. It’s hard to tell what they feel about this suburban junkie lady – Hagerty seems a bit removed from her in his observation and bemused by details like someone throwing a sandwich at her, while Herrema seems kinda impressed by her attitude. Maybe because it’s basically her attitude?
Buy it from Amazon.
February 27th, 2019
Y Olvídate De Tus Problemas
Ximena Sariñana “Lo Bailado”
The appeal of “Lo Bailado” mainly comes down to the way the music plays on the tension between airy minimalism and tight, disciplined structure. It mostly feels breezy and carefree, but you still feel the tautness of the rhythm guiding every soft gesture. It’s not a rigid vibe or anxious feeling – it’s more like setting yourself up with the mental and physical awareness it can take to get loose. The lyrics, as near as I can tell, mirror the form. Sariñana is basically singing about letting go of a bad feeling and focusing on the positive aspects of having an experience. In a way, it’s her equivalent to “Thank U, Next” – appreciate your experiences, but move on when you need to.
Buy it from Amazon.
February 28th, 2019
More Kid Than Criminal
Julia Jacklin “Body”
“Body” is muted in tone and emotion; it’s the grey dull vague sadness you get after exhausting much bigger feelings. Julia Jacklin sounds spent as she sings about an incident with a fuckup boyfriend that has made it clear that their relationship could not go any further. This anecdote takes up most of the song, but the really intense part comes after a brief instrumental break. With a bit of distance, she realizes he’s got a nude photo of her, and wonders if he’ll use it for some kind of revenge. She’s not sure, but she sorta comes to terms with that happening – “I guess it’s just my life, and it’s just my body.” It’s a sigh, it’s a shrug. It’s letting a bit of you die. There’s no emotional resolution here, the song ends as elliptically as it begins.
Buy it from Amazon.