Меню Главная Случайная статья Настройки Участник:Reylanno/Черновик 2 Материал из https://ru.wikipedia.org Черновик 1 Черновик 2 Черновик 3 Черновик 4 (свободен) Черновик 5 Содержание 1 История создания 2 Концепт 3 Название, персонаж и обложка 4 Музыка и тексты 5 Композиции 6 Промокампания 7 Отзывы критиков 7.1 Признание 8 Место в дискографии 9 Примечания История создания Предыстория The musician – aka Annie Clark – released her latest record, the acclaimed ‘Masseduction’, back in 2017, before sharing a piano-led reworked version with ‘MassEducation’ the following year.[1] Концепт Идея Will the ‘stripped back’ acoustic route be a bridge to the next incarnation? Is there any sonic ground she really needs to cover? Is there anywhere she’s desperately itching to take St Vincent? “Just, really heavy. Go really hard.” So will we see a St Vincent thrash record next? “I don’t know what the next thing is. I always have really rad ideas like, ‘Oh, it’s going to be Skinny Puppy meets Dillinger Escape Plan!’ But you just get in there and the music tells you what it wants to be.”[2] St. Vincent explained that she was “dead set” on creating a “heavy record” as the follow-up to 2017’s ‘Masseduction’. “Like just heavy the whole time – like, ‘Hey kids, you like Tool? Well, you’ll love the St. Vincent record’, you know?” she said. Clark went on to say that after going “down a road with that” original idea, she ultimately felt like she “didn’t have anything to say there”. “It didn’t feel anything, to go more angular and harder after ‘Masseduction’,” she continued, “but where it did feel like something, and felt free and fun and fresh and a lot of other ‘F’ words, was to just go back to the music I’ve listened to more than anything else, which is stuff made in New York from ’71 to ’76 — post flower child, pre-disco, pre-punk – and just sit in that space for a bit.[3] Конечное (2020): “I would say it’s the sound of being down and out Downtown in New York, 1973,” she told the new weekly newsletter The New Cue. “Glamour that hasn’t slept for three days". “In hindsight, I realised that the ‘Masseduction’ [album] and tour was so incredibly strict, whether it was the outfits I was wearing that literally constricted me, to the show being tight and the music being angular and rigid. When I wrapped that, I was like ‘oh, I just want things that are fluid and wiggly and I want this music to look like a Cassavetes film’.” She added: “I wanted it to be warm tones and not really distorted, to tell these stories of flawed people being flawed and doing the best they can. Which is kind of what my life is.”[4] Антонофф и студия I produced this album between fall 2019 and the end of 2020, but the global pandemic has not really had an impact on the way I work," St. Vincent shares. "I had more time to devote myself to it without being interrupted.[5] I were in the same room, about half of it or more was done with just me and myself in my studio and an endless online back-and-forth with Jack who was in New York so I think that I really got to kind of go in deep and try and get to try different things with my voice, even like my physical voice, stretch and see if I could scream like this and see if I could see just how slinky I could make something. I was really playing in the voice world and do it. I definitely got better at Pro-Tools too, you know what I mean?"[6] I would say it did [их творческие отношения с Антоноффом изменились], because we did about half of the album before quarantine, and then we went into lockdown. One of the great things was that I really grew as a producer on my own, because I was locked in [my studio] alone to create almost more than half of the record. The great thing about Jack is that I trust him, and he’s a great musician. So if he has an idea, he can just play it and send it to me. The record can be very insular; you see some records where there’s a mile-long list of credits, and that’s one way to do it, but I like to have a tight-knit group and a singular vision. So Jack and I could make the record remotely because between the two of us, we played most of the things besides the backup singers and horns—we kind of had the bases covered already.[7] For this album, I used an RCA 77. It’s an old broadcasting ribbon mic from the ’40s that I love.[8] It’s an old ribbon mic, and it just sounds so good and warm. I know these are words that might not mean that much — when people describe sound as warm, it’s reductive. But it makes things sound and feel true. I don’t mean that it has perfect fidelity. What I mean is that when you sing into this microphone, what comes back at you feels honest. My friend Cian Riordan, who mixed “Daddy’s Home,” hipped me to this mic.[9] I wrote that album in what was the darkest part of my life—at that point. I was grappling with the fact that my father had just been put away in prison. I just watched a bailiff f**king take him away. And I was just reeling from it and doing what I do, which is write through the pain and try to make sense of it in some ways, personally, through writing songs and self-expression.[10] We shot “The Nowhere Inn” in spring or summer of 2019, and I finished the score for it that fall. And I was already working on a bunch of music, but then there was the sudden release of my father from prison. It was earlier than expected, which was great. But I guess I started writing Daddy’s Home a few months after I wrapped the score for “The Nowhere Inn,” at the end of 2019. It did bleed together a bit. I just think there’s something very cathartic about taking the thing that is the most raw in you, or the thing that you feel a certain amount of shame about, or the thing that—when you think of it—just gives you that sting of anxiety, and just absolutely putting it right out there in the work. It makes it less of a monster.[10] Написание песни: Oh, no, I rarely start guitar. Honestly, I really rarely sit down with a guitar and write a song. I think I have better ears than I do hands. I mean, some of the songs came about from me turning knobs and plugging in CV cables to modular syntha. Just doing this for an hour until something sounded cool, then taking six seconds of the thing and being like, "I'm gonna write a song around that." That's definitely how the song "Pay Your Way In Pain" happened. Just, "Oh, cool. I found this modular baseline that is really evocative to me and I'm going to follow that." Same with a song--there's a song on the record called "Down," which was kind of a similar process in that modular world, and then a lot of things were way more--I went back and studied the harmonies: Stevie Wonder, Steely Dan, and that kind of stuff, and just went back to school. Like, "Damn, why does that feel so good when they go there? Oh, sh**!" you know, "Damn! So cool."[11] ‘Daddy’s Home‘ began in New York at Electric Lady studios before COVID hit and was finished in her studio in LA. She worked on it with “my friend Jack”[12] "…At The Holiday Party" was the first song that I worked on with Jack Antonoff for Daddy's Home. I told him I wanted to make something down-and-out downtown. Sleazy, not perfect, not mechanical. Just kind of vibe-y and human. I played him what I had, and he goes in with a Wurlitzer, and I pick up an acoustic guitar and play that part at the top. I called my buddy Michael, the musical director for Steely Dan, who definitely knows the world I’m referencing. He came in and laid down some horns. By the end of the day, it was like, “Oh, yeah. This is the vibe.” I had discovered the palette for the whole record. From there, it was just us vibing at Electric Lady Studios in New York.[8] She found the album’s sound while working with producer Jack Antonoff in New York before the pandemic began. “I was walking down the hall at Electric Lady Studios with Jack,” she recalls, “and I was like, ‘I want to make this down-and-out, downtown kind of record.’ ” Antonoff then sat down at the studio’s Wurlitzer to record “At the Holiday Party,” which recalls a woozy catch-up with a washed-out star. “I was like, ‘Yeah, this is it,’ ” she says. “ ‘These sounds are warm, and they’re literal, and they’re evocative.’ “[13] Первые сессии: Now another familiar figure entered the studio: Annie Clark, the singer, songwriter and guitarist who records as St. Vincent. Antonoff warned her that a journalist was present. “Don’t say anything that will get you canceled,” he advised. Antonoff and Clark worked together on her 2017 album, “Masseduction.” But this was a more casual session. “We’re just messing around,” Antonoff said. “Annie’s one of those people who, anytime there’s a chance, it’s like, ‘Let’s just see if there’s anything to mess around with.'”[14][15] Выбор студии: I think with Daddy’s Home Electric Lady was a character on it. The way the album sounds, the kind of tape machines we were using, it needed to be a place like that.[16] Об Энни: Annie [Clark] is a remarkable musician. People are like, “Oh, yeah, she’s amazing on guitar.” But she’s also amazing on theory and the movement of things and harmony.[17] “The Melting of the Sun” was a very, very crafted song. I rewrote the lyrics seven times. As far as sonically, [Daddy’s Home] scratches a lot of itches for me. There’s an amount of psychedelia, which is very soothing and transformational. This isn’t another record with an aggressive hyper-color assault. This one is: Come sit in the seat of a leather chair, and welcome.[18] So if I’m with Annie or Lana, we might be in the studio for a while, but the album doesn’t start until the moment that you say, “Wow, that thing we just did is the thing.” For example, with Daddy’s Home, we already had made Masseduction with Annie, which is very modular and very harsh. So were messing around in this studio and at some point there was some space in the connection between these dry drums I was playing and this electric sitar she was playing, along with Clavinet and Rhodes, where it all just clicked and it was like, “That’s it, that’s the shit.”[16] Дубли: The album includes lots of first takes; the idea was to abandon perfection, “which often can cause one psychic pain”, she says. “Just to play and be truly free and in the flow; for things to have the logic of water instead of skyscrapers.” [19] I should say [rock voice] "Yeah, that’s right, we just jammed…" But, you know, I’ll be honest. There are some vocal takes in there that are first takes. But it really is just the sound of people playing. We get good drum takes. And good bass takes. And I play a bunch of guitar and sitar-guitar. And it’s the sound of a moment in time, certainly. And way more about looseness and groove and feel and vibe than anything else [I’ve done before].[20] Карантин: I did – let’s see now – plumbing, electrical, painting. Luckily there’s YouTube, so you can more or less figure it all out. I did a lot of that stuff and I have to say it was such a nice contrast to working on music all day. Because when you’re working on music you have to create the construct of everything.[20] Закончила осенью 2020[20] “I’m so glad I can play guitar and fuck around in the studio to my heart’s desire but it’s about what you can say. What’s a great song? What lyric is gonna rip your guts open. Just make great shit! That’s where I was with this record. That’s all I wanna do with my life.”[12] Инструменты: The 1967 Coral Electric Sitar Guitar. Jack Antonoff [who co-produced the album] gave it to me. We were in the studio and he had it out, and I picked it up and played a song on it. I thought it could be a cool texture for the album instead of heavily distorted guitar and borrowed it for the duration of the recording. In the end, I tried to give it back to him. He was like, “No, it’s yours. I can’t take it back.” I think he bought another one and didn’t need it anymore, but he very generously gave it to me. I know this is a vintage piece of gear that is somewhat sought after.[18] But Daddy’s Home doesn’t just tone down the distortion, it practically does away with it altogether. Instead, Clark turned to a very unlikely source to add a touch of dissonance and grit to the album: a 1967 Coral Sitar.[21] Another leftfield hallmark of the new album is its unabashed use of wah, something that Clark has come to very late but clearly became enamoured with during the making of Daddy’s Home.[21] “Pay Your Way in Pain” brings me a lot of joy. I love getting to scream at the top of my lungs. The whole record [Daddy’s Home] was a lot of fun to sing and make. It’s a lot about capturing the performance. “My Baby Wants a Baby” was fun to sing, especially at the end [starts singing it]. That’s really fun.[18] My baby wants a baby: ‘I wrote the song, and for 12 to 24 hours I was walking around thinking: “My God, I’ve just written the best melody of all time.” But then I started thinking: “But it’s so familiar. God, it’s like it always existed and then it just poured out of me.” And I was like, oh wait… “My baby takes the morning train…” And I thought: “Oh, this actually works really well — it adds a layer to the song that is very interesting.” I have of course given Florrie Palmer, who wrote that song, her publishing due.’[22] “I mean, every melody was an improvisation at some point,” she jokes. “But, yeah, I was improvising, just jammin’ in my studio. It was very fun. On previous records, I was invested in writing guitar parts that were complicated, underneath vocal parts that were also complicated. They were like syncopated puzzle pieces working together. But it would take a lot of practice to get to the point where it was effortless and fun.[21] Микширование ‘Oh, I’m not sure I like this performance so much now that I can hear it more clearly and in context. I’m gonna resing it.[pay your way]’”. <...> his above quote refers to Clark wanting to resing a vocal performance after hearing a first mix. On the entire album, Riordan’s mixes revealed things that led to extensive toing and froing between Clark, Antonoff, and himself, often resulting in dozens of mix revisions, and sometimes more.[23] There were a couple of songs where the arrangements changed so much as a result of the revisions that I had to remix the entire song, as I wasn’t able to salvage my initial mix. ‘The Melting Of The Sun’ was one of them. It can be frustrating, as a mixer, to have to start over on a mix after 10 rounds of revisions. But I love Annie’s work, and this is an important record, so I wanted to make sure we got the best result possible.”[23] I was hired to engineer a SleaterKinney record [The Centre Won’t Hold, 2019], on which Annie was the producer. I already was a fan of her records, so when I was in the room with her, I found we got sounds very quickly, because we hear things in a similar way. “Annie then asked me to work with her on some of her next projects. She has a home studio, with quite a bit of vintage gear, including a lot of outboard and many synths, and a 1970s 12channel Opamp Labs console"[23] The timeline for the making of Daddy’s Home saw Riordan and Clark work at her studio for much of 2019, with some recordings that ended up on the album laid down by them during the winter of 201920. In March 2020 they stopped working together, due to the pandemic. Clark later went to New York, to record most of the album with Antonoff and engineer Laura Sisk at Electric Lady. Where Masseducation had for the most part been mixed by star mixer Tom Elmhirst (Adele, Arcade Fire), in the summer of 2020 Clark asked Riordan whether he was interested in mixing Daddy’s Home.[23] “Typically, when someone asks you to mix an album, you reserve like two weeks or so, but in this case, tracks were trickling in as they were completed. I’d do a mix, send it back, they’d want to tweak the production some more, so they’d go back in, add stuff, take stuff out, and would send me their updates, and I’d try to find a way to reintegrate them into the mix session. “Luckily everything was done in Pro Tools. Sometimes they’d work with stems of my mix, sometimes they’d work in my mix session. There always was some kind of master session. This was a process that went on over several months, in the end with Annie back in Los Angeles, where she’d update her vocals and guitar parts at her studio. Sometimes there were over 20 revisions on a mix.[23] Riordan: “I was around for the inception of that song when Annie came up with the riff, which sounds a bit like the Eurythmics, on the Moog Grandmother. It was the genesis of this song. We spent a day going through it, turning it into a loop, making it bigger, and me playing different drum ideas. When the song came back to me to get mixed it had transformed enormously, and they had added a lot of production on it. I was surprised to find that my drums were one of the drum sets that remained.[23] Видео/аудио-интервью Loud and Quiet EW Фонтано Apple Music Rough Trade [40] Music is Win CoS [41] FaceCulture Sodajerker [42] Kerrang Концепт Смена звучания: found her playing a near-future cult leader, pivoting into baroque art-rock; 2017’s Masseduction continued this progression, positioning St. Vincent as a manic dominatrix. Most recently, this year’s Daddy’s Home escaped into the glam sounds of early-‘70s pop-rock and funk;[10] Annie: "I think that I felt that the mass production world was very strict physically, visually, musically and I think I just wanted to do something that was unlike anything I’ve ever done, which is make a record that was warm from start to finish and has no distortion really, not a bunch of distortion and was very easy to listen to and kinda’ touch on some psychedelia and touch on the harmonic sophistication of the pop music of the 70’s which was really interesting and sophisticated for me as a musician. I think I wasn’t a good enough musician to approach this style of music until now. You know, like (laughs)…It’s deep stuff in terms of, like, being in your body, timing, feel…It’s, like, a bit of heavy lifting and I feel that I was able finally to do it and doesn’t feel like I’m a tourist, I learned this language and I learned how to speak it, you know, and use it in my own way."[6] Звучание (по музыканту): In a new interview with Mojo, Clark spoke of what to expect from her next full-length project. “[It’s] a tectonic shift. “I felt I had gone as far as I could possibly go with angularity. I was interested in going back to the music I’ve listened to more than any other – Stevie Wonder records from the early ’70s, Sly And The Family Stone. I studied at the feet of those masters.” She went on to describe her next record as sounding like “the colour palette of the world of Taxi Driver” and “Gena Rowlands in a Cassavetes film”. “I just wanted to capture the colours, the film stock, and tell these stories of being down and out, down on your luck,” Clark added.[1] It's after the, like, flowers-in-your-hair idealism of the flower children, but it's before the escapism and ecstatic excess of gay disco or the nihilism of punk.[24] Источники вдохновения: “I went back to these records that I probably listened to more in my life than at any other time, music made in New York from 1971-76, typically post-flower child, kick the hippie idealism out of it, America’s in a recession but pre-disco, the sort of gritty, raw, wiggly nihilistic part of that. “It’s not a glamorous time, there’s a lot of dirt under the fingernails. It was really about feel and vibe but with song and stories.”[4] Антонофф: We just played our asses off. On Daddy’s Home, those parts are fucking nuts, and we were taking cues from some of the greatest records made in the Seventies. We were looking at what Stevie Wonder or Steely Dan would do. The whole vibe of Daddy’s Home was like, “Let’s just push you to the absolute fucking limit.” And she let me play drums, which is pretty exciting.[17] Мир альбома: For Daddy's Home, the world is very much inspired by the early ’70s musically. This down-and-out sleazy world where you had an amazing confluence of music. The Velvet Underground, Steely Dan, Stevie Wonder making these fusion records that were groove-based and cool, but also telling the story of what was going on culturally. I'd always loved that kind of music. I wanted to immerse myself in it for Daddy's Home.[8] “It’s not just about the music, either,” she continues. “Some of the best films that were ever made were made during that period of time. There really was something in the air. It seems like life was hard and people were struggling with all kinds of social tumult—civil rights, women’s rights, economic instability—and music really rose to the occasion. It spoke to the actual human condition of the times, and it didn’t feel escapist or overly idealistic, like the flower children. As a musician, that period of time feels like hallowed ground. I needed to earn my stripes before I felt like I could approach it and do it justice and play it. It’s way heavier shit.”[25] Открытость: Around the release of 2017’s ‘MASSEDUCTION’, the musician conducted a number of her interviews in a retina-burning, highlighter pink box. Next to her she kept a dictaphone, pre-loaded with stock responses for questions she deemed too predictable or clichd. She took great joy (and perhaps some relief) in pointing out that her music is impossible to fact-check. “It’s not my job to tell you what the truth is, unfortunately,” she told NME in her last cover story three years ago. This is where ‘Daddy’s Home’ differs. His imprisonment has previously lingered in her work, and yet ‘Daddy’s Home’ marks the first time that she has readily spoken about the true context behind some of her music.[26] “I wanted to tell my story with a level of humour and compassion,” she explains. In 2016, she began dating the supermodel Cara Delevingne and found herself splashed across the tabloids, experiencing the slightly surreal tabloid era of her career. The Mail On Sunday found the court records about her father and door-stepped her family. “The story was sort of told against my will. I’d addressed it in art, but I was always very opaque about the autobiographical part,“ Clark says. “I wanted to tell stories of flawed people doing their best to survive, and write about the human condition with humour, compassion, and a lack of judgement. Nobody’s perfect and people make mistakes and people can transform and people can change. If we don’t think that’s possible, then I don’t know what we’re doing.”[26] Previous St Vincent albums examined what it means to live for something larger than yourself. Daddy’s Home attends to baser issues, most pressingly how one earns the right to be treated with humanity. It is partly a consequence of experiencing the US justice system up close.[19] St. Vincent also sees “parallels between what was happening in the early ’70s, and what’s happening now”, referring to the recession that afflicted much of the Western world.[26] And it reminds me a lot of where we are today, in terms of social unrest, economic uncertainty. A groundswell wanting change... but where that’s headed is yet to be seen. We haven’t fully figured that out. We’re all picking up pieces of the rubble and going “Okay, what do we do with this one? Where do we go with that one?”[20] One thing Daddy’s Home isn’t is a dewy eyed-homage to the past.[27] Отец: “So the nuts and bolts of it is like, my dad got out of prison in 2019,” she said. “He’d been in for 10 years. My first song for it was a story about when I used to go visit him and I would sign crumpled-up Target receipts somebody had left in the visitation room. And, of course, it’s incredibly sad, but it’s also incredibly absurd so the whole family has found a way to laugh about it.”[4] In 2010, her father was sentenced to 12 years in jail for his role in a $43m (27m) stock-manipulation scheme. Clark never discussed her father’s imprisonment until the tabloids dug it up in 2016. A decade ago, she was terrified about protecting her family in Dallas and Tulsa – especially those of her eight siblings who were still children. “I wasn’t in any kind of place where I wanted that narrative to overshadow the music,” she says. “I didn’t have any perspective on it. It was just this horrible, festering wound.”[19] According to evidence presented at the trial, he bought shares in a series of low-priced penny stocks and artificially pushed up their prices using coordinated trading and mass promotion campaigns, some of which touted new business opportunities in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.[26] The title refers to Clark's own father, locked up in Texas for 12 years in 2010, for money laundering in a stock manipulation scheme, one in which he and his co-conspirators cheated 17,000 investors out of 35m. It is also, in typical Clark style, a bit of saucy slang[20] He went away in May 2010[12] - fall 2019[28] She says the barbed commentary of 2017’s Masseduction gives way on Daddy’s Home to empathy for “flawed people just doing our best to get by”. She drew from the aesthetic of grimy early 70s New York and the look of Cassavetes heroines (although the blond hair is a wig). “It reflects my particular feeling toward humankind right now.”[19] Humour and perspective gradually leavened a situation that had been “immovable and full of sorrow”. Clark had to laugh when prison guards sent her to Walmart to buy looser clothes (“Mind you, I wasn’t going dressed to the nines!”)[19][[while the massive collection of books she brought for her dad to read behind bars was confiscated and replaced with various editions of the Bible.; buy XXL sweatpants[13]]] or when other visitors asked her to autograph crumpled receipts. She has a nuanced take on her father’s conviction. “One takeaway could be: don’t go against the government, or don’t be the last person holding the bag. There’s a lot of layers to it.” Her father, now 73, could not be less of “a daddy”, she says, drily. “In some ways, the roles have reversed – I feel like ‘Daddy’ half the time, you know?” She says he is “thrilled” by the album. These days, they have a great relationship. “He’s a person, and every person has a lot of facets, and a lot of shit they’ve done wrong, and good qualities. So it just is. That’s not very poetic, but it just is.” She chose to detail her family’s experience because, “while incarceration is an incredibly horrific story, it’s not in any way a unique story”. She cites the stats: nearly half of Americans – and 63% of African Americans – have had a close relative in prison. She is clear that her anecdotal experience does not make her a spokesperson for prison reform. The issue she returns to throughout our conversation is the importance of allowing for human fallibility in a “very pearl-clutching” time.[19] Clark was angry when her father was jailed – at him, the system – and scared. “I’m a lot like my dad,” she says with a woofing great laugh. He raised her with the records that inspired Daddy’s Home. “We have a very similar sense of humour and a lot of similar interests.” It invited a personal reckoning: “Am I too destined for a road to ruin? Is there something cracked in me that will … am I going to live the Icarus fantasy, too?”[19] For most of the past 10 years, she has barely talked about him at all. It’s obvious now that the trauma of her dad’s imprisonment is in the very bones of 2011’s Strange Mercy – with its references to “our father in exile for God only knows how many years” – but at the time, she kept shtum. And Clark’s fans, happy to just be dazzled by her, never demanded the cold hard facts. “To protect my family, I wasn’t keen on having it out in the world,” says Clark, who grew up in Texas after her parents split up. She has eight siblings, most of whom were still children when her dad went to prison.[29] Back when Strange Mercy came out, “I thought, ‘I’m not very established – the story would overshadow the work,’” Clark explains. Then in 2016, when she was in a relationship with supermodel Cara Delevingne and thus the subject of intense tabloid speculation, “the story was told without my consent”. In other words, the Daily Mail dug it up. By trawling through court records and doorstepping extended family members, the newspaper discovered and published intricate details of her father’s crimes – and just for good measure, threw in a claim that he’d failed to pay child support when he split up with Clark’s mother.[29] “Luckily I’m super tight with my family and the Daily Mail didn’t find anybody who was gonna sell me out,”[12] о недостатках системы: “We’re still living the history of the enslavement of Black people in this country,” she says slowly, methodically. “There’s a direct line between slavery and incarceration. A direct line.” Drug laws designed to disproportionately affect Black and brown people, she says, are one of many “injustices that have been done to the descendants of formerly enslaved human beings. I have a lot of thoughts on the failings of the criminal justice system and the problems of monetising incarceration. So yes, it’s an American tragedy. It is.”[29] "The situation with my family, it’s not a result of the same lineage of slavery. It was a different thing. It’s my little sliver, which is that my father’s actions... the American criminal justice system said, ‘In exchange for what you’ve done, you’ll give us 10 years of your life. And then after that, you’ve paid your dues.’ And that was the exchange. And it’s wild to think about that. It’s wild to think about what people…” “The prison system is American capitalism figuring out how to use humans as meat machines.”[29] Between tours and whenever she could manage, Clark would go and visit him in prison and would be signing autographs in the visitation room for the inmates, who all followed her success with every album release, press clipping and late night TV spot. She joked to her sisters that she’d become the belle of the ball there. “I don’t have to make that up,” she says.[12] “I’ve always had a relationship with my dad and a good one. We’re very similar,” she says. “The movies we like, the books, he liked fashion. He’s really funny, he’s a good time.”[12] Clark had actually touched on her up-and-down relationship with her dad and her feelings about his incarceration on her third LP, 2011’s Strange Mercy. The references were, however, deeply oblique – if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t have picked up on them. Now, thanks to the tabloids, the whole world felt it had the inside track.[27] Название, персонаж и обложка Название The title is trademark St Vincent – ambiguous and unsettlingly kinky[19] “What followed were weeks and months of heartbreak, reckoning, drinking, punctuated, thankfully, by music.” Her father, a stockbroker, was sent to the Federal Correctional Institution in Seagoville, Texas, for “white-collar nonsense” – aka multimillion-dollar stock manipulation. He would stay there for a decade. The new album’s title refers to his release – although, as she puts it to me with a laugh, “it’s sort of a transformation too – I’m Daddy now”. Интервьюер: You’ve said that the title “Daddy’s Home” just made you laugh, and that was one reason for having that as the title of the album.[18] Обложка где снято: new photographs show maroon flares, a robe, tousled blonde hair, all shot against the beaux-arts-meets-Skid-Row backdrop of downtown Los Angeles' Barclay Hotel.[28] You can still see Clark’s signature frozen smile on the LP sleeve as she cosplays an outtake from Taxi Driver.[18] But this cover’s all sepia, dulling the typically vibrant colors into a more timeless image,[18] "With this new album, I really wanted to go back to seventies costumes and nightie-style dresses. The aesthetic was that of a glamorous woman who has not slept for three days. At first glance, you think she is pretty, but on closer inspection you realize that her mascara is smudged and that her nails are broken and dirty.”[5] Metamorphosed, she swaps her usual brown hair for a blonde bob and long bangs. Under her slip dress and white faux fur jacket, we notice that one of her stockings is ripped. Seated in an armchair, she stares at us, a discreet smile on her lips. Commanding and fulfilled.[5] an olive green trouser suit with wide lapels[30] Candy Darling Notoriously immortalised by Lou Reed in ‘Walk On The Wild Side’, the real Candy Darling was a transgender icon, a muse of The Velvet Underground, and an actor who appeared in several of Andy Warhol’s films. The artwork for Antony and the Johnsons’ 2005 album ‘I Am A Bird Now’ features Peter Hujar’s famous portrait of her on her deathbed, an image that also inspired Annie, as she explains. “She has roses festooning her breast, and she’s looking impossibly glamorous. You just can just imagine her ascent into heaven - catching that last train uptown, waving in slow motion.”[30] "To me, she has the perfect combo of prim glamour and deep toughness. She’s beautiful and elegant on one hand, but on the other could cut somebody. It’s about glamour that’s been up for three days; people that are down on their luck."[30] Образ об образах: so how does that work? All the theatrics, she says, are simply a way of expressing a more profound truth about herself.[31] "it doesn’t feel like a character,” she says. “It just feels like you have a big mixing board on your personality and you turn some things up and turn other things down. I like reinventing myself. It feels thrilling to me, really. Like, I could be anybody today.”[28] Кэнди Дарлинг: part-Warhol Superstar, part-Cassavetes heroine[20] Annie’s latest character, Candy Darling: a brazen figure who boasts about being banished from the children’s playground by the local mothers for wearing heels.[30] inspired bob and a corduroy flared suit, she poses imperiously, legs turned out and arms crossed[25] as a Warhol superstar; a drug-addled ingenue stalking the halls of the Hotel Chelsea; Gena Rowlands in her Cassavetes era, swanning around in a dressing gown. “Those very complicated heroines have always been very appealing to me,” Clark says of the fast-living women and ’70s knockabouts that inspired the record.[25] John Cassavettes’ Opening Night[6] a John Cassavetes anti-heroine (think Gena Rowlands in Gloria) and ‘Fame’-era Bowie.[12] those were all characters. Or, at least, exaggerated fragments of Clark’s psyche.[29] Sleazy, gritty, grimy[12] цитата: I like to create a world and then I get to live in it and be somebody new every two or three years. Who wants to be themselves all the time?”[12] Символика цвета: Yellow may be the colour of gold, the hue of a perfect blonde or the shade of the sun, but when it’s too garish, yellow denotes the stain of sickness and the luridness of sleaze. On ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ – the first single from St. Vincent’s forthcoming sixth album ‘Daddy’s Home’ – Annie Clark basks in the palette of cheap 1970s yellows; a dirty, salacious yellow that even the most prudish of individuals find difficult to avert their gaze from. It’s a yellow that recalls the smell of cigarettes on fingers, the tape across tomorrow’s crime scene or the dull ache of bad penetration.[12] David Bowie, in particular, has always felt like a major touchstone for St. Vincent, who seems to build a distinct persona around each album she releases. Her debut album, 2007’s ‘Marry Me’ was a barbed bite at neatly bundled up ideas of romance – with a blank face and slightly raised eyebrow, it poked fun at the dullness of domesticity. ‘Actor’, released two years later, was her warped Disney nightmare, while 2011’s ‘Strange Mercy’ depicted her bored and tranquilised California housewife. On 2014’s ‘St. Vincent’, she wore a crown of harsh grey hair and ruled over a tech-fried dystopia; ‘MASSEDUCTION’ was helmed by a fuchsia-pink latex dominatrix overseeing the absurd apocalypse. Does she see each album as reflecting a different persona – a bit like Bowie?[26] "I really get such a thrill getting to be a different person every two or three years. All this stuff is within me and it’s a question of what you turn up and what you turn down in your personality. It just feels free.”[26] St. Vincent has transformed herself again – this time, into a ’70s singer-songwriter type crusading around New York City with a tumbler of bourbon permanently in hand, expensive perfume and cigarette smoke in her hair. “Imagery-wise, there’s this one side which is the really coquettish daddy’s girl, which is really just so pervy,” Clark says, “and the other side is wearing the suits and the more daddy vibe. I think it might be my funniest album title?” she muses aloud. “My funniest since ‘Marry Me’.”[26] Another major inspiration was Candy Darling, an American actor and trans woman who later became a muse for The Velvet Underground, Lou Reed and Andy Warhol. As Clark puts it, she “lived within and presided over it all”, becoming a fixture in fashionable Manhattan. The closing song of St. Vincent’s record is named after Darling, who died in 1974 aged just 29, and imagines waving her off on the “latest uptown train” with armfuls of bodega roses.[26] Beyond merely writing about her, why did St. Vincent also want to pull aspects of Candy Darling’s appearance into her own look for ‘Daddy’s Home’? The resemblance is plain to see. “I want everything about the visual world of the album to continue to tell the story, and everything about how I look tells the story.” Clark says. “It’s like this glamour that hasn’t slept for three days. Shooting for Hollywood glamour but takes a right turn on Houston [Street in Lower Manhattan] and ends up smudged and a little dirty.”[26] “I think of things theatrically, so I want to make sure that the artwork and my clothes and my imaging and everything tells the story of the album. I want it so that if people look back on the project, they go, ‘Oh yeah, that was that era’. Also it’s fun for me to get to be pretty much a different person every three years. And it’s not as if any of these traits aren’t in me - it’s just sort of a question of what you turn up and what you turn down.”[30] [43] [44] [45] [46] (и прочее) [47] [48] (?) [49] плейлист + название Музыка и тексты Звучание She jumps from aggressive electro-pop to indie rock to psychedelia[8] After I’d done MASSEDUCTION, I felt like I’d gone very far down the road of distortion and synthetic textures.[7] Both Antonoff and St Vincent, real name Annie Clark, are known for their fondness of wild experimentation, and they first worked together on St Vincent’s fifth studio album, Masseducation (2017). The futuristic electropop and glamrock[23] psychedelic take on early-’70s pop-rock and funk.[25] The album’s midtempo-ness and lack of riffs (from one of our great riffers)[18] but there is a sea change in sound and spirit: the old adrenaline rushes are replaced by louche soul and world-weary tenderness, straddling Sly and the Family Stone’s degraded 1971 epic There’s a Riot Goin’ On, the sweet spots of Stevie Wonder and Steely Dan and the queer revelry of the 1974 Labelle concert at the Metropolitan Opera in New York that scandalised polite society.[19] Thick with Coral sitars and prog guitars, it is both funkier and looser than anything she’s made before. “It’s very much like, ‘Welcome to this world, have a seat, have a drink’,” she says, “instead of aggressively, presentationally, ‘I’ll choke you until you like this’.”[29] Daddy’s Home is an album that’s teeming with life and loss, backup vocals and brass sections[13] Antonoff and Clark worked on ‘Masseduction’ and found a winning formula, pushing Clark’s guitar-orientated electronic universe to its poppiest maximum, without compromising her idiosyncrasies.[12] Инструменты Антоноффа: “He played the hell outta instruments on this record. He’s crushing it on drums, crushing it on Wurlitzer.”[12] Энни: I used Wurlitzers, and obviously a lot of guitars. A sitar guitar, bass, drums...I didn’t really use any instruments that were made after 1976 except for my own guitar, which is a more modern model.[7] Sly & the Family Stone, Lou Reed, Funkadelic, and Pink Floyd—making for her smoothest, most cohesive record yet[25] Daddy’s Home is far from a classic-rock record but, as with everything St Vincent has done in recent years, its mood and vibe – from the guitar tones and the gear used to achieve them to the artwork and even the outfits worn by Clark when promoting it – are all perfectly calibrated to reflect the 1970s lounge-act aesthetic that the album captures[21] Гитары delicate clean tones, a languid, almost improvisational flavour, and lashings of sitar and wah.[21] Clark’s playing has always had an almost mechanical quality to its precision, but from the first Prince-y chord stab of album opener, Pay Your Way In Pain, there’s a freedom and looseness to proceedings that sound almost improvisational.[21] Голос “I’ve never done a record where I wasn’t singing my own backups,” Clark says. “I feel like there’s a specific meaning behind that, if you were the only one doubling your own voice or harmonizing. This record is way looser, way more about just performance.”[13] “Every time they sang something I’d say, ‘Yeah but can you do it sleazier? Make your voice sound like you’ve been up for three days.”[12] The other thing about the performance aspect of the record is, with those singers, and writing parts for the singers like I did on the record--I wanted that to be like--that's a conversation. It's not background singers. It's a real time conversation. I wanted to make sure that was clear with the performance. These aren't background singers hiding in the back making the lead singer seem more competent. It's like no, you're front and center. We're having a conversation here. You're very much a part of it and they were so great.[11] Влияние The entire record is familiar, giving the listener the satisfaction that they’ve heard the songs before but can’t quite place them. It’s a satisfying accompaniment to a pandemic that encouraged nostalgic listening. Clark was nostalgic too. She reverted to records she enjoyed with her father: Stevie Wonder’s catalogue from the 1970s (‘Songs In The Key Of Life’, ‘Innervisions’, ‘Talking Book’) and Steely Dan. “Not to be the dude at the record store but it’s specifically post-flower child idealism of the ’60s,” she explains. “It’s when it flipped into nihilism, which I much prefer. Pre disco, pre punk. That music is in me in a deep way. It’s in my ears.”[12] Sly & The Family Stone, Funkadelic and Steely Dan[26] Harry Nilsson[30] Тексты это НЕ концептуальный альбом[18] Темы: человеческие права, капитализм, материнство, феминизм[29] | wanted to tell real dirty romantic stories. Crazy romantic stories.[28] songs about people dying, and legacy and choosing whether to have children or not, and people who are in pain in different ways[32] As for Daddy’s Home, it is a record about “flawed people doing their best to survive”. “This record is from guts and pelvis,”[29] Персонажи: The album is filled with troubled characters who haven’t slept for days – fallen angels roam the streets of New York City, trying to get by as menace lurks in the background. Often ‘Daddy’s Home’ returns to the image of a fallen angel or the myth of Icarus: tragic figures killed after flying too close to the sun. (somebody like me)[26] New York is a main character on the record — the mysterious Johnny, a rough-and-tumble friend whom she’s mentioned on several past albums, makes an appearance as “Bowery John” — but Clark’s part-time home of L.A. turns up too.[13] Город: On ‘Daddy’s Home’, Clark writes about a past derelict New York; a place Los Angeles would suffocate in. “The idea of New York, the art that came out of it, and my living there,” she says. “I’ve not given up my card. I don’t feel in any way ready to renounce my New York citizenship. I bought an apartment so I didn’t have to.” Her down-and-out New York is one a true masochist would love, and it’s sleazy in excess. LA is a city Clark reluctantly only half calls home, and one that is opposed to her vastly preferred New York. “I don’t feel any romantic attachment to Los Angeles,”[12] Альбом ассоциируется с: Daddy’s Home is the Angel Orensanz Center on the Lower East Side. I don’t spend a whole lot of time above 14th Street; I don’t know why it feels like a psychological barrier going past there.[18] And though ‘Daddy’s Home’ is more patently autobiographical than anything the musician has done before, it still stems from a fantastical world populated by down-and-out characters – and despite shedding light on some of the experiences that led here, Clark is opaque as ever when it comes to defining the meaning of her music. Though she’s said that this is partly an album about her self-discovery in the decade during which her father was incarcerated, she won’t elaborate on what exactly she’s learned – nifty DIY skills aside.[26] I’m playing with the masculine-feminine, writing about flawed people doing their best to get by and sometimes fumbling. “We’re all in this weird shit together”—that’s what I would say the vibe is.[33] возможно в цитату: Кларк о заключении отца: “If I’m honest, I thought if I put it in the little comic strip, then I wouldn’t need to talk about it so much,” says Clark with a weak laugh. “I think I was really naive. It’s kind of hilarious how much I ended up talking about my own pops.”[29] об отце: With Daddy’s Home, she decided to take back control of the narrative – or try to. “I wanted to be able to tell my version of it with humour and compassion and a lack of judgement,” she says. Where Strange Mercy felt like “a lifeline, some place to put it”, Daddy’s Home felt more celebratory. “Not to be Disneyfied about it, but he spent a decade of his life behind bars and he served his time and he’s out. It’s best-case scenario for the post-prison life – being integrated into the family and being a person among kids and grandkids and all that stuff. So there’s a sweetness to where it ended up.”[29] One of the reasons I never wanted to talk about anything autobiographical is because I firmly believe that the artist and intention don’t matter at all. I never wanted to get in between somebody and their experience of the work on its own. My father’s incarceration was a story that was kind of told without my consent, but since it got out, I was like, Well, I can write about it because I can tell it from my perspective, and with a sense of humor and compassion, and not be too Disney about it. People being capable of change is a very exciting thing to remember in this day and age, so I don’t feel any shame about it. I don’t bring it up to garner any sympathy; it just simply is.[33] I've lived all [those] stories, so I could write about them. I've been the girl with 'last night's heels on the morning train' [in reference to album song "Down and Out Downtown”]. I've been the girl '... At The Holiday Party' on both sides: The person who's revealing themselves by the things they try to hide and the person who sees somebody in pain, just flailing to cauterize the wound with conspicuous consumption. The record, to me, is the process of my metamorphosis into 'Daddy.' Even though it starts with a story of visiting my actual father in prison and how abject and darkly funny that was, it really [is] my journey.[34] I really just wanted to write about the human condition with not a lot of judgment. I don't feel a lot of--I'm more in a place of just trying to understand why we are where we are, what people are feeling, what are the things that people are truly motivated by to try and cut through some of the noise of it. And to try to understand for myself, but I could truly study the human animal forever, and never be bored. I mean, what we do, why we do what we do is pretty endlessly fascinating. I wanted to write about it without judgment, just, we're all here.[11] Every time I was writing and coming to a place where I was blaming people, I pulled it back. This is not about condemnation or judgment. That’s not what this is.”[25] Instead, she uses the ordeal merely as a vantage point to speak her own truth with biting humour and newfound compassion. In this way, the record also becomes a metamorphosis, where Clark reclaims authority over her own narratives: she’s now her own Daddy.[7] But the rest of the album is really about these short stories about myself, or where I am, or characters that I drew, based on my own experience. There’s not a lot of judgement on the record, as far as judgement on human behaviour goes. I tried to stay away from dropping the gavel on anything. I feel like we have enough of that in the world.[7] Влияние плейлист [50] [51] Джони Митчелл The Atlantic NPR The ringer Audioxide [52] [53] Композиции pay your way in pain it starts with some completely incongruous ’30s honkytonk piano,[23] chronicles a hard-luck downtown wraith: no money, no baby, no home. It is Clark’s blues song for 2021. “I was watching the various mechanisms of power crumble, or at least get rocks thrown at them. And it seems like people have to make some Faustian bargain between dignity and survival.” She laughs, sadly. “Everybody just wants to be loved. We want to have a little shelter and a little food. But we’re caught in a system that makes that hard for most people.”[19] ‘Pay Your Way in Pain’ explores the vicious cycle of sin and shame, as its largely-ignored protagonist ricochets around in search of connection, only to be shunned by the gatekeepers of acceptability. “I went to the park just to watch the little children,” they say, “The mothers saw my heels and they said I wasn’t welcome”.[26] The plastic soul sound of lead single ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ brings to mind David Bowie’s ‘Young Americans’[26] brims with bluesy jazz — especially with the addition of backup singers Lynne Fiddmont and Kenya Hathaway (daughter of late R&B legend Donny Hathaway), who croon on the chorus.[13] She sings about the price we pay for searching for acceptance while being outcast from society.[12] О каблуках: Her obsession with heels in the lyrics of ‘Daddy’s Home’ she reckons may be a reflection of her nights performing ‘Masseduction’ in thigh highs.[12] “This character is like the fixture in a 2021 psychedelic blues. And this is basically the sentiment of the blues: truly just kind of being down and out in a country, in a society, that oftentimes asks you to choose between dignity and survival. So it's just this story of one really bad fuckin’ day. And just owning the fact that truly what everybody wants in the world, with rare exception, is just to have a roof over their head, to be loved and to get by. The line about the heels always makes me laugh. I've been her, I know her. I've been the one who people kind of go, ‘Oh, oh, dear. Hide the children's eyes.’ I know her, and I know her well.”[35] down and out downtown любимая песня: I’m really partial to ‘Down And Out Downtown’, because it feels like I’m writing about a former version of myself with compassion, when often we don’t have that much compassion for ourselves. And I don’t mean this in a self-help kind of way, but sometimes when you look at your own past, there’s this instinct of shame. But I could just see this girl, i.e. me, in the song. You know, “Last night’s heels / On the morning train.” You get to your block after a night out, and there are the people you see every day.[7] “This is actually maybe my favourite song on the record. I don't know how other people will feel about it. We've all been that person who is wearing last night's heels at eight in the morning on the train, processing: ‘Oh, where have we been? What did I just do?’ You're groggy, you're sort of trying to avoid the knowing looks from other people—and the way that in New York, especially, you can just really ride that balance between like abandon and destruction. That's her; I've been her too.”[35] daddy's home It's a slow reggae.[24] The title track, meanwhile, is autobiographical, recalling Clark signing makeshift autographs in the visitation room before her father left jail. “We’re all born innocent but some good saints get screwed,” she sings, “Hell where can you run when the outlaw’s inside you?”[26] One of the last times Annie Clark went to see her father in a Texas prison, a fellow visitor asked her to autograph a receipt — the only paper they had on hand. “I find it very darkly comic. It’s obviously very sad, but it’s also incredibly funny.”[13] “The story is really about one of the last times I went to go visit my dad in prison. If I was in national press or something, they put the press clippings on his bed. And if I was on TV, they'd gather around in the common area and watch me be on Letterman or whatever. So some of the inmates knew who I was and presumably, I don't know, mentioned it to their family members. I ended up signing an autograph on a receipt because you can't bring phones and you couldn't do a selfie. It’s about watching the tables turn a little bit, from father and daughter. It's a complicated story and there's every kind of emotion about it. My family definitely chose to look at a lot of things with some gallows humour, because what else are you going to do? It's absolutely absurd and heartbreaking and funny all at the same time. So: Worth putting into a song.”[35] flecked with filthy organ chords and the occasional swell of saxophone, ‘Daddy’s Home’ finds Annie reliving her experiences visiting her father in the facility, from the startling contrast between his “government green suit” and her “fine Italian shoes,” to the surreal moments she spent signing autographs for the other inmates’ families.[30] live in the dream ‘Live Your Dream’ finds St. Vincent putting her own psychedelic spin on ‘Dark Side of the Moon’-era Pink Floyd.[26] “If there are other touchpoints on the record that hint at psychedelia, on this one we've gone completely psychedelic. I was having a conversation with Jack and he was telling me about a conversation he had with Bruce Springsteen. Bruce was just, I think anecdotally, talking about the game of fame and talking about the fact that we lose a lot of people to it. They can kind of float off into the atmosphere, and the secret is, you can't let the dream take over you. The dream has to live inside of you. And I thought that was wonderful, so I wrote this song as if you're waking up from a dream and you almost have these sirens talking to you. In life, there's still useful delusions. And then there's delusions that—if left unchecked—lead to kind of a misuse of power.”[35] the melting of the sun The woozy Melting of the Sun celebrates her heroes Joan Didion, Joni Mitchell, Nina Simone and Tori Amos – women whose “particular genius was not recognised at the time, or when they spoke out they weren’t listened to or they were actively suppressed. What they were doing was powerful, but they were met with a hostile world.” She compares herself unfavourably with them: “But me, I never cried / To tell the truth, I lied.” She says she hopes she has not denigrated their legacy. “I hope I wasn’t a coward when you guys were brave.”[19] Clark does look back – to women like Joni Mitchell and Tori Amos who she feels paved the way for her. “I feel like I’ve benefited from their bravery and I wanted to say thank you,” she explains, “and to say, ‘You made it easier for me, and God I hope I’m making it easier for the next generation.’”[29] she muses on women who have been crushed or otherwise mistreated by the entertainment industry, Joni Mitchell and Marilyn Monroe among them. “People tried to quiet them when they were saying something that was righteous or true or hard to hear,” Clark says. “[That song] in particular is a love letter to strong, brilliant female artists. Each of them survived in an environment that was in a lot of ways hostile to them.”[13] Jane в начале песни: To me, Jane is actually Joan Didion, when she was living in Malibu, in that classic picture of her in front of the white Stingray Corvette. And I tried to get a reference to her daughter Quintana Roo in there, but it just wasn’t going to to fly. I was really picturing ‘70s Joan Didion, writing about California.[18] the laughing man On ‘The Laughing Man’, chirping bird-song turns sinister and falling love plunges its narrator into a sleepy stupor: “If life’s a joke, then I’m dying laughing,” they quip, darkly[26] down I ask instead about “Down”, on which she sings so close to the microphone, it feels like a threat. It’s a song with no time for excuses. “Tell me who hurt you – no wait I don’t care/ To hear an excuse why you think you can be cruel.” “I’ll never say who it’s about,” Clark tells me with a chuckle, “but yeah, it’s a revenge fantasy. At a certain point, we are all culpable. Just don’t be a d***. Don’t be a s**tty person. There’s not even that much more I can say about it.”[29] “The song is a revenge fantasy. If you're nice, people think they can take advantage of you. And being nice is not the same thing as being a pushover. If we don't want to be culpable to something, we could say, 'Well, it's definitely just this thing in my past,' but at the end of the day, there's human culpability. Life is complicated, but I don't care why you are hurt. It's not an excuse to be cruel. Whatever your excuse is, you've played it out.”[35] ‘Ordinary Pain’ (stevie wonder) from the same collection as a direct influence on the revenge-fantasy funk of ‘Down’[30] is kind of one song on Daddy’s Home that is not, like, about compassion and change and empathy and is very much like a revenge fantasy basically. It was not hard to write (laughs) because it’s very externalized anger. It’s harder to sort of write about internalized anger in some way.[6] somebody like me The song Somebody Like Me, warmed by pedal steel and openhearted vulnerability, proposes Clark’s vision of love, comparing someone who dresses up as an angel and leaps off a building to the high-stakes act of risking one’s heart. “Love is a mutually agreed-upon delusion. That, to me, is very poetic and very romantic. Because there’s action and agency involved – we’re going to build this idea of who we are and what we are together.” She knows it’s not exactly traditional. “But I think, as a person who peddles delusion, this is romance to me.”[19] I was thinking about love, and I was thinking about how that usually people think about love as something that happens to them. They don’t know…It’s just something that happens to them that’s beyond their control and it just happens. And I was thinking about love (in terms of) it’s not something that just happens, it’s something that you build. It’s, like, you agree to dream the same dream and it’s an immense leap of faith. What’s the difference between being an angel and painting yourself white and dressing up the clothes and putting a halo on is not that far, you know, it’s a matter of belief that you are something. So, I was thinking of love that way and thinking about all the ways myself and probably many other people have a hard time accepting love or don’t feel worthy of it and kind of go, like, 'How did I get so lucky?!' and what happens is that if somebody sees you in a better light than you see yourself, it actually can change that way that you view yourself. You think, 'Oh, I like what you see!' and you start to kind of change the way you see yourself and be a bit more generous, I guess, with yourself.[6] And yeah, it’s a little bit of a Harry Nilsson homage and I’ve always thought of the end of 'Layla' Derek and the Dominoes, it’s just, like, such a beautiful outro to a song and I was trying to kind of channel that beauty. It’s melancholy, but it’s wistful and beautiful and kind of trying to have that big outro like 'Layla', you know[6] my baby wants a baby The funniest song on Daddy’s Home outlines Clark’s commitment to her cause: My Baby Wants a Baby starts with Clark seemingly playing a pouty 60s rocker (her “baybee” is very Jagger), annoyed because his girl wants to pin him down. Then her own fears break through: she predicts her prospective failures as a parent, when all she wants is to “play guitar all day / Make all my meals in microwaves / Only get dressed up when I get paid” – conscious, too, of how art made by women is judged by their mothering capacities, or lack thereof. “I couldn’t leave like my daddy,” she sings.[19] On “My Baby Wants A Baby”, a swaying, Moogy feast with resplendent backing singers, she grapples with the prospect of motherhood. “I wanna play guitar all day/ Make all my meals in microwaves/ Only dress up if I get paid/ How can it be wrong?” she sings as the song builds to an almost frenzied climax. “What in the world, what in the world, would my baby say? ‘I got your eyes and your mistakes’.”[29] “If you’re an artist, you’re already married to your work,” says Clark, “and you don’t want to make any decision that’s going to make it so that you can’t make things. And for most people, their version of making things is procreation. Not that those things are mutually exclusive, but I think for the female artist, it’s just an extra layer of, ‘What do you do?’ There’s this bare, neurotic voice of ambition [on the song]. And the dirt-bagginess. I’m definitely being self-deprecating but it’s not that far off. If left to my own devices, I would barely survive in a conventional way. So the song’s just exploring all of that. How much weight society puts on [the idea] that truly the best thing you could do is to make another one of you. But God, why are you so great?”[29] “My Baby Wants a Baby” sees Clark take the goofy refrain of Sheena Easton’s “Morning Train” and transform it into a delightfully weird meditation on what it would mean to have a child when all she wants is to “play guitar all day / Make all my meals in microwaves.”[25] My Baby Wants a Baby is really about the kind of psychic struggle of going well, I know how to make some things. I know how to make songs. I know how to make music. How do you have a child who doesn't inherit all of your worst qualities or your mistakes?[7] It is, confoundingly, Sheena Easton, whose first single, ‘9 to 5’, supplies the melody for ‘My Baby Wants a Baby’, about a woman who is very much not the happy homemaker of the Easton song.[22] at the holiday party soulful horns, acoustic guitar and backing singers[12] St vincent о песне: "…At the Holiday Party" is kind of my modern version of The Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want," but from a more feminine perspective. The narrator sees a loved one at the holiday party, a little drunk, a little early, with just a little crack in their expression that shows their pain and vulnerability. They’re doing what we all do, which is try to hide or compensate for our pain with distractions, whether it's fancy things, or drugs, or the internet. I've been on both sides of that, so I can write about it honestly.[8] “Everybody's been this person at one time. I've certainly been this person, where you are masking your sadness with all kinds of things. Whether it's dressing up real fancy or talking about that next thing you're going to do, whatever it is. And we kind of reveal ourselves by the things we try to hide and to kind of say we've all been there. Drunk a little too early, at a party, there's a moment where you can see somebody's face break, and it's just for a split second, but you see it. That was the little window into what's going on with you, and what you're using to obfuscate is actually revealing you.”[35] It’s, like, not necessarily the romantic song, it’s about seeing a sister, a friend, a brother going through it and having empathy and also…You know, you have those relationships (where) one look in someone’s eye and you know they’re not okay."[6] candy darling Placed near the end of the album, the song "Candy Darling" is also a moving evocation of the transgender New York icon and muse of Andy Warhol.[5] “I just got pretty obsessed with her,” she continues. “I had a friend who was friends with her, and was at her bedside when she died, and I just started thinking about her. She was from Queens, which was not geographically far, but may as well have been a lifetime away from Manhattan. She invented herself there, and got to become herself in Manhattan,” Clark says. “I just kept picturing that we were all on the platform seeing her off and she was taking that last uptown train to heaven, slow motion waving with the tiniest bit of subway wind in her hair.”[26] [54] [55] [56] Track by track Pay Your way in pain the melting of the sun down Промокампания Анонсы Подтверждение в твиттере (декабрь 2020);Mojo: Tonight (December 15), the musician confirmed on Twitter that the record will arrive next year. “The rumors are true. New record ‘locked and loaded’ for 2021,” she said. “Can’t wait for you to hear it.” [1] постер [57] первый тизер+сингл pay your way [58] [59] (ремикс) [60] сериал: [61] тизер [62] the melting перед snl превью [63] [64] [65] SNL [66] [67] down [68] [69] [70] газета со спотифай [71] радиостанция в apple music Most recently, St. Vincent dove headlong into WSTV Radio, a ‘70s-era program in which she adopts a luscious radio DJ persona complete with sumptuous vocals and no shortage of schmaltzy humor. Through a combination of newsy tidbits, weather reports, and music of the era, St. Vincent crafts a velvety soundscape that reviews the events of a specific day (all thanks to meticulous research) of that seminal decade in music history. The final episode of this season, which aired on Friday, saw Clark spin a mix of 1974’s chart-toppers: Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder, Paul McCartney & Wings, and many more. "In this case, the parameters are that I’m focusing on specific days between 1971 and 1976. A lot of the Daddy’s Home [her 2021 album] stuff was taken from that period."[36] [72] [73] live concert [74] [75] [76] [77] клип daddy's home [78] [79] at the holiday party live [80] Тур St. Vincent also revealed to Mojo that she plans to strip-back her live show when she heads back out on the road. “My last tour was a whole bunch of production and high-concept video and razzle-dazzle and I can’t go any further with that,” she said. “I’m going to come down and just play. I don’t think high-gloss sheen is going to be that resonant with people because it will feel very much [like] ‘let them eat cake’.”[1] Декорации: I went to Disneyland for the first time, and I saw the It's A Small World ride. I was like, "That is awesome." None of the technology was new or flashy or anything. It was just practical. I decided I wanted to make this tour like It's A Small World, but set in down-and-out, downtown New York City, in 1973. I have these set pieces that can move, like community theater—but in a good way. Scrappy. You can see the seams which, again, all ties back to the music. It's not polished. It's not perfect. It's performed and real.[8] Being on tour was the best. I didn’t even realize how much I had missed it. I got to have moments onstage, especially with certain songs, the ones that are very heart-on-sleeve. I would sing to someone in the front row, look in their eyes and have this exchange of our mutual humanity, like, “I'm so glad to be here. You're so glad to be here. Wow. We've all been through a lot. What a miracle it is.” That’s my feeling: What a miracle. And the musicians I was touring with, the Down and Out Downtown Band, are just unbelievable. Truly some of the absolute best musicians on the planet today. Mark Guiliana, who is “the dude” in the jazz world, but also played on Bowie's last record, Blackstar. He brings so much to the music. We get to reinvent it every night onstage.[8] “A record doesn’t really feel complete to me until I’ve actually played the songs for people and with people in real-time,” Clark says on a recent phone call. “Because you get to see how the energy in the crowd changes. Clark says that until she’s on stage as St. Vincent, sharing her music with a live audience, a new record remains an ephemeral shadow, impossible to fully know.[37] Her tour kicked off earlier this month in New England; these are the first St. Vincent shows since the pandemic except for a small one-off in New Orleans to celebrate the opening of a friend’s hotel.[37] [81] [82] [83] [84] Издания [85] (эксклюзивный винил) История с интервью Clark hasn’t commented publicly and it would be foolhardy to wade in without knowing the facts.[27] Today, Clark is like a different person. Even with her camera off, thousands of miles away in LA, the 38-year-old seems less distant than she did reclining on a chaise longue metres away from me, barely making eye contact. She is gentle, open, self-reflective – even a little nervous, often second-guessing how her answers are going to be received. (Her fears are proven right a few weeks later: she becomes Twitter’s pound of flesh for the day after a journalist self-publishes a slightly tense conversation with Clark, frustrated that the singer’s team had apparently asked for it not to run. Some wondered whether it was because the journalist had asked too many questions about Clark’s father’s imprisonment – but she seems perfectly happy to talk about that this evening.)[29] When Clark was growing up, her dad told her that the best way to lead her life was with “ironic detachment”. It was a good tip in theory, but emotions always break through that carapace eventually. “It’s so useful to be able to detach from the emotional, to go up and look at something from a bird’s eye view,” she says. “But the other side of ironic detachment is a lack of vulnerability, or an impenetrability, which is not actually helpful. It prevents communication and can be quite cowardly. But I do have to say, between my mother’s unwavering feminism and my dad’s insistence that all us girls be tough, I’m actually quite glad that there was a premium put on toughness. Sometimes you just have to be tough.”[29] The nods to her father invited questions about Clark’s thoughts on the criminal justice system, which she has answered thoughtfully in some interviews; but after one writer probed the subject particularly hard, Clark asked to have the story pulled. The interviewer then published their conversation independently, sparking a fierce debate online around both how willing Clark should have been to answer questions on the subject given its centrality to the album’s theme, and whether the incident represented a broader hostility to press on Clark’s part—and if so, then why she was doing interviews at all.[25] Clark (38) has a reputation as a “challenging” interviewee. Promoting her 2017 album, Masseduction, in the UK, she insisted, for instance, that the press meet her in a pink “psychic womb” smelling of fumes. Next to her was a dictaphone containing pre-recorded answers to questions she regarded as predictable. On other occasions journalists have described Clark shutting down and staring at her phone. This happened when conversation turned to a topic she felt already done to death (“what’s it like being a woman in music?) or which she simply didn’t fancy (queries about her decision to tour Masseduction without a band landed with a profound thud).[27] само интервью [86] [87] Clash [88] [89] Отзывы критиков 5/5 Mojo The Guardian The Independent Gigwise DIY 4.5/5 The Line of best fit PopMatters Variety Music OMH Vinyl Chapters Фонтано 4/5 Rolling Stone NME AllMusic Uncut Slant The Observer The Telegraph Under the Radar Evening Standard Clash (не откр) Spin Record Collector Crack Riot Glide The Irish Times Loud and Quiet Dork The Forty-Five Exclaim The Music Australia The Skinny The Arts Desk [90] Guitar The Dartmouth 3.5+ The A.V. Club Paste Northern Transmissions Spectrum Culture Beats per minute 3 позор Pitchfork The NY Times No Ripcord Sputnikmusic неопределенные The Washington Post Коммерция The Texan's sixth LP, Daddy's Home is No.4 in the Official Charts Company midweeks after amassing 5,845 sales (UK)[38] [91] Признание О Грэмми: The Grammys are not a popular vote. It’s a vote from people in the Recording Academy. It’s a vote from the engineers, the songwriters, the composers — not just the performers and the people you see onstage. It’s all the many craftspeople in my arena. It’s really cool that these same people who do a version of the same thing I do, and we’re all in this weird hustle together, are like, “We like it. We appreciate what you did. We respect it.”[39] Грэмми Место в дискографии slate [92] [93] Примечания 1 2 3 4 [1] [2] [3] 1 2 3 [4] 1 2 3 4 [5] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 [6] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 [7] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 [8] [9] 1 2 3 [10] 1 2 3 [11] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 [12] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 [13] [14] [15] 1 2 [16] 1 2 [17] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 [18] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 [19] 1 2 3 4 5 6 [20] 1 2 3 4 5 6 [21] 1 2 [22] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 [23] 1 2 [24] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 [25] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 [26] 1 2 3 4 [27] 1 2 3 4 [28] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 [29] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 [30] [31] [32] 1 2 [33] [34] 1 2 3 4 5 6 [35] [36] 1 2 [37] [38] [39]