St. Vincent's big moment
In the film that accompanied Born to Run's 30th anniversary, Bruce Springsteen reflected on his reaction to the initial burst of fame that followed the record's release. He recalled going to his room in October 1975 to dodge his cackling bandmates' delight at seeing his face on the cover of TIme and Newsweek in the same week. A month later, when he saw the '"Finally London is ready for Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band," signs that greeted him on his arrival at the Hammersmith Odeon, Springsteen insisted that they be removed, walking through the lobby tearing down posters and lifting flyers from seats in the auditorium. He reacted by dodging interviews for years and not returning to Europe for another 6 years. Speaking 30 years later, he admitted that, in reality, the things he was railing againstwere the very same things that he had signed up and waited his whole life for.
A rock star's breakout moment is a fascinating thing to watch. Springsteen may have been ambivalent when his arrived but others are more prepared. The Gallagher brothers are a perfect example of someone who saw their moment coming, grabbed it with both hands, and never looked back. There's an argument that the thing that's sustained interest in them for almost 25 years is not so much the music (has there been a great song out of either for 20 years?) but the legend established before their second record even came out.
And so we come to St Vincent.
Annie Clarke was in town this weekend to do a couple of shows in the Olympia. Her new album Masseduction was released earlier this month and is seen, not least because of the input of producer Jack Antonoff (whose recent credits include Lorde and Taylor Swift), as a conscious attempt to make the leap from beloved cult artist to breakout rock (or pop) star. If St Vincent is the new David Bowie (the comparison is never far away) Masseduction, with its soaring choruses, memorable hooks and commercial sheen, is her Let's Dance. In fact, New York, the album's first release is about as far as you can get from a typical St Vincent song. Channeling her inner Billy Joel (we all have one), the ballad is surprising in its apparent sincerity and straightforwardness. At one point there's even a chorus that wouldn't seem out of place on the X Factor or Eurovision Song Contest. It's the kind of thing you hear all the time on daytime radio and, presumably, would expose St Vincent to an audience that might not normally seek her out. Except.. Right there in the middle of the song is an expletive - Motherfucker - that reminds you that, although it's a different St Vincent sound, the old Annie's still in there too. But the expletive will presumable keep the song from daytime radio meaning that the song with perhaps the most commercial appeal on the record won't get the exposure it might otherwise have done. So there's the paradox. On one hand, she's supposedly reaching for a new, wider, audience while on the other she's torpedoing her plans by doing the one thing that'll stop herself getting airplay. It's hard to know what to make of it.
And then there's the concert this weekend.
St Vincent concerts are always a glorious affair. She's got a devoted audience and it's impossible to take your eyes off her. For a start, she's an extraordinary guitarist and it's thrilling to watch her at work. Then there's the visuals and costumes. Not to labour the Bowie comparison, but, at the moment, there isn't really anyone else who invest as much thought and consideration into their staging, lighting, costumes, album covers and videos as St Vincent.
And, in many ways, this concert was just what we've come to expect from her. Looking like Katy Perry's seen-and-done-it-all older sister, the costumes, guitars, videos were all present as expected. The only thing that was missing were any other musicians because, for as yet unknown reasons, Clarke is touring the new record by playing every night to a pre-planned backing track. This means there's little room for spontaneity or interaction. Backing track starts, St Vincent sings and shreds, backing track stops. Repeat. The gig was in 2 halves. The first was a swift chronological run through 12 or so songs from her back catalogue while the second was an equally swift run through Masseduction in its entirety. If it's possible to be fascinated and disappointed at the same time, this was it. The songs were great and the vocals were excellent (we're to assume she was singing live but who knows?) and yet it was hard to get past what was missing - other people on stage! I was trying to think if I've seen anything like it before and can't think of anything. I thought of Grace Jones in the Olympia last year who similarly performed on her own. However at one point a curtain rose to reveal that a band was actually there all along. So that's different. And Bowie's Sound & Vision tour in 1990 was designed to keep the musicians out of sight. But they were there. I'm trying to figure out why it even matters. I mean, with the greatest of respect, when you go to a St Vincent concert there's only one thing you're looking at - and it's not the bloke on keyboards! So why is it a problem?
On Twitter (the great source of popular opinion), the reaction to the Dublin gigs was almost universally positive. Her London gigs earlier in the week didn't fare much as well with many people describing it (unfairly) as karaoke. The Times gave the show a 1 star review (again, unfairly) describing it as vain, pretentious and remote. By contrast the Irish Times offered 5 stars, celebrating the 'performative unravelling of sharp emotions'. It's hard to imagine any other recent performance that has divided critics like this. I suppose, in an era when every new movie, tv show and big tour is, inevitably, 'amazing' you have to admire St Vincent's ability to create something that's generating such different reactions.
But this takes me back to the big moment. St Vincent's reaching for the stars with a commercial album and sold-out tour. But she's also hobbled her chances of exposure, and polarised her existing audience at the same time. Maybe she doesn't want it as much as we think.
I can't wait to see what she does next.
Oh - the photos here are by a brilliant photographer called Lucy Foster. I've pinched them from her Twitter feed but her website is here
