Founder rate ends 9th September.

We’re rebuilding theartsdesk to secure the future of real arts journalism. Be part of it by subscribing: if you do it now, the founders’ rate of just £40 yearly is yours FOR LIFE!

SUBSCRIBE NOW 

CD: St Vincent - St Vincent

Annie Clark's fourth album is her strongest and strangest work yet

share this article

St Vincent: a one-woman avant garde powerhouse

Perhaps the most effective way to sum up St Vincent - the self-titled fourth album from the one-woman avant garde powerhouse known to her friends as Annie Clark - is that it’s the closest she has come on record to the visceral, engrossing experience that is seeing her live. Clark’s albums before 2012’s collaboration with David Byrne were beautifully crafted things, in turns both gorgeous and surreal, but with a certain under-glass quality. St Vincent, by contrast, is an album that revels in its strangeness, interspersing some of its more curious stories with cobweb-blasting bursts of sheer joy.

In truth the album isn’t all as immediate as its leading singles suggested - “Digital Witness” in particular, incorporating the same ecstatic bursts of horn arrangement that punctuated Byrne collaboration Love This Giant into a song about the virtual lives we construct for ourselves through social media - but that’s what makes it so interesting. Opening track “Rattlesnake” sets the scene with a staccato synth line and distorted vocals that remain curiously charming even as they descend into a discordancy that seems to mimic the serpent of the title - it’s a true story, of course. “Birth in Reverse” might be about routine and agoraphobia, if you can put aside the infectious, chaotic melody for long enough to analyse the lyrics; and “I Prefer Your Love” is a huge, spacious tribute to a mother’s love that feels far lengthier than its three and a half minutes.

Given that she is rightly celebrated as one of the most skilled contemporary guitarists, the only thing more strange than how few opportunities Clark takes to demonstrate her considerably prowess on the album is how long it takes you to notice.“Bring Me Your Loves” and “Every Tear Disappears” are full of big riffs, but the skill is as much in the way they melt into the electronic beats and synthesisers as the wrangling. And then, with the lushness and the sigh that is “Severed Crossed Fingers”, the album ends - with not a minute wasted.

Overleaf: watch the "Digital Witness" video


St Vincent is an album that revels in its strangeness

rating

5

explore topics

share this article

Help secure the future of arts journalism

In this era of algorithmic recommendation, opaquely sponsored content and AI slop, theartsdesk’s mission to preserve real journalistic and critical values has never been more important.

If you like what you see here, please join us 
in this mission.

Subscribing to the site will help us in our coming 
redesign and expansion.


If you do this before the 9th September this will be at our guaranteed founder’s rate: 
your subs will never increase again.

Subscribe now for £5 per month. 
or yearly for just £40.

Or if you simply want to support us with a one-off donation, you can do so here.

more new music

The genre-crossing musician brings a New Age sheen to his solo piano tribute
The London trio add toilet bowls and ugly crying to the hedonistic glamour
New York band’s blend of folk rock and psychedelia grabs attention
Northern indie four-piece offer a vim-laden snapshot of disenfranchised Britain
Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Laura Mvula shine
Garage, French House and feeling collide in latest release
A creative, inclusive, endlessly imaginative festival for families
Prolific Aussie psychedelicists marry dance and prog sounds
A soaring fusion of atmospheric melancholy and energetic punk