Contemporary fatalism brings out the bold shock of All Born Screaming. The latest St. Vincent album should be no thematic surprise. Exercising the style Strange Mercy developed with the writing as a day job and the performance as a rudimentary part of the experience, St. Vincent has twisted and turned with the creation of song. For this latest effort, there is a sense of urgency. All Born Screaming is a cemented, revered artist fearful of their sound and hoping to crack it deeper, to understand why listeners find comfort and hope in the darker moments. A heavy bass opens Hell is Near and from there St. Vincent glides through an intimate, open album which mounts a charge for one of the best releases this year. Biting off more than you can chew is an expectation now, not an achievement. St. Vincent reflects on this and so much more with this latest, and possibly best, effort.
Those tips St. Vincent borrowed from Nick Cave – the construct of writing as a day job and creativity funnelled into routine – are certainly heard on Reckless. Powerful and blistering stuff just waiting for the inevitable tempo change. The explosion to follow is as its title allows and the lack of restraint St. Vincent showcases here is stunning. Fierce and instrumental booms bring about a sense of paranoia but then think of those repeated cries of “What are you looking at?” a little longer and it becomes all too clear. Those prying eyes and staredowns in the street are not in your head but a challenge. St. Vincent has consistently pushed her work but crucial to this stretch of brilliance is dragging along the audience for it too, kicking, screaming and scratching their heads. For those who enjoy the endurance of impressive walls of sound look no further than the exceptional percussion and distorted underbelly of Flea.
An impressive first half of snarling and empowered reductions brings out the best St. Vincent can offer. A subversion of her previous sounds meets the impressive boom of new horizons. Big Time Nothing is asking, no, telling, listeners to sit straight and pay attention to the complacency of contemporary notions. Make your mind up and move to the rhythm laid out as it moves into a slight new wave guitar groove before it tells you to look deeper within. We all need to make more time for it, that is just fact. Look ahead and get nowhere but those mistakes which pinch our nerves and later become an integral lesson are the experiences we should revel in. St. Vincent is as strong a lyricist as she is a guitarist. All Born Screaming is where the two meet with succinct perfection. Understand the chaos of the real world by listening in to a soundboard of what we can experience out there, rumbling through the streets as we keep our heads down and survive.
But what is survival without pure love and warmth like this? We may be all born screaming as St. Vincent asserts with this title but it is the smooth and cool jazz of Violent Times which binds us. Lose yourself but not the ones you love to this Diamonds Are Forever-like vocal tone and tender strings. In a slick counter to the idea the best are only remembered for their art is a sense of pride in your love, even if it is pure and sole in your achievements. St. Vincent implores a futile feeling in harsh conditions as we remember our contemporaries for their resolve rather than their rage. All Born Screaming is one of the few works to capture the futile feeling of the modern day and express it with sincerity and direction to the next steps, the light at the end of the tunnel.
Whether this is the light of salvation and just reason for our actions or the fires which dominate the steady electric opener of The Power’s Out is neither here nor there. Whatever the direction there is a way out of the darkness, and it is through intense, wondrous lyrics from St. Vincent. Her reliance on influences like David Bowie is clear on The Power’s Out, a modernised pop at Five Years where weathermen telling of the apocalypse are replaced by gunned-down men on television screens. Like any great album, the deeply personal pieces of the puzzle are shrouded in mystery and rightly so. It is the difference, for St. Vincent at least, between revealing too much behind the curtain of a well-curated and fascinating career and drifting away from an openness which wraps around a lister. Comforting, but firm. Rebuff the flickers of self-blame hidden away in the latter half of this masterclass.
All Born Screaming is as authentic as it gets. Few artists will offer the truth of their mind and the clarity of their soul. St. Vincent gets it. Observations of faith and promising those closest to you that it’ll all work out fine is all we can do sometimes. It comes about on So Many Planets. We are given only a handful of spins around the big ball of fire. St. Vincent makes it clear making the most of your time here is not an option – it is mandatory. Quell the noise inside your mind and calm the cries of fire. St. Vincent closes on the solidarity which comes through existing. It is painful, filled with rot and sin, and an overwhelming urge to be swallowed up by the Earth will rise through the mind from time to time. But fight the urge and fear, kick against it as All Born Screaming commands. Its beating heart and raging, rising synth is a frenetic end to an album holding clarity in a time of worldwide uncertainty.
Discover more from Cult Following
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
