St. Vincent – MassEducation (Re-Imagining of MASSEDUCATION)
(Loma Vista Recordings)
Reviewed by Tim Gruar.
Last October New York provocateur Annie Clark (aka St. Vincent) released her 5th album, MASSEDUCATION, just as the #MeToo movement was gaining full traction. Despite the highly sexualised and exploitative images used in its promotion, Clark held fast that the album focus was on themes of power, sex, drugs, sadness, imperilled relationships and death. Critics hailed her work as some kind of clever feminist backlash or sexual reclamation. Yet, somehow I didn’t believe this. The frivolous, raunchy overtones in her videos and the upbeat, almost frothy treatment of her songs seemed to diminish the power of her messages. However, paired back to just vocals, piano and guitar, Clark’s new treatment of these same songs has found a way of correcting that and giving a real voice to this stunning set of songs.
Reworking the title and calling it MassEducation meant Clark wanted to do more than just offer a ‘nightclub’ interpretation of her last album. It was like her audience had somehow not quite understood the irony and wit of the material and they needed to go back to school and swot up. So, to hammer home her manifesto she chose to lay everything bare – and in doing so, exposes her exquisite song craft to the broad daylight.
Performed entirely by Clark (vocals) and Thomas Bartlett on piano, the new album renders songs like the title track, Young Lover and Fear The Future and their subjects in a vivid, vulnerable new light. If you found MASSEDUCTION overwhelming, then perhaps this collection of stripped back tracks might be more palatable. Then again, the energy and electricity behind these recordings between Clark and Baxter might still make you feel uneasy.
Clark’s arrangement of Savior makes her song of love and BDSM even more twisted and vulnerable. With the lyrics so crystal clear, you can really feel the pain of her character coming through the confusion. Given the subject matter and treatment, the song reminds me of Tori Amos during her Under The Pink and Boys for Pele albums. The video is also worth checking out (see here). Directed by Bobcat Goldthwait (remember Police Academy?) and shot live at the voluptuous Belasco Theatre in Los Angeles, it is a very different Annie Clark to the usual techno-goddess we are used to seeing on stage.
Clark remains in ‘Tori’ mode for Smoking Section, stripping back her original lush orchestration and over-emphasising the seductive growl and playful lilt in her voice to a spine-tingling level. Her voice is predominantly alto but when she hits those raw, seductive high notes, goose pimples veritable crawl across your skin. Her aim is to both turn you on and wake up your conscious simultaneously.
The original version of Sugarboy is a perfect piece of fluffy, digital pop. It’s lush, and layered with reverb, angular interspersions and vocal overdubs but accompanied only by a piano it becomes an aching torch song. I definitely prefer this version – and especially Baxter’s intensive playing and the claustrophobic anticipation built into the production of this recording.
The title track (on MASSEDUCTION), was initially produced as modern ‘lounge’ song, dripping in yet more irony and tinged with new age disco frivolities. Yet, here, when its unfrocked, and all the layers of electronica removed, you get Clark singing as if nude and vulnerable, with only her words to defend herself. Between gritted teeth she sweetly spits: “I can’t turn off what turns me on (Masseducation) / I can’t turn off what turns me on (Masseducation) / I hold you like a weapon (Massdestruction).”
Clark keeps the jazz lounge singer vibe on her reinterpretation of Los Ageless, with just a smattering of Patti Smith’s intensity on the chorus as she wails “How could anybody have you / How could anybody have you and lose you and not lose their mind, too?”
Not all these songs are vastly different reinterpretations. Happy Birthday, Johnny, for example, is performed almost verbatim to the original, with only the echoing slide guitar effects removed. And for Hang on Me there is only a subtle difference, but again Clark’s stripped it back and the song becomes an even more desperate pleading reaction to a phone call from a lover who’s trying to break up with her.
On the original version of New York, Clark’s lament to the loss of Prince and Bowie (“I have lost a hero / I have lost a friend”), she introduced elements of fizzy glam pop. With just a piano, this is a very personal and sombre paean. Whereas Pills, I think works best with the full digital orchestration. Clark must have written it with the Wonka’s Oompa-loompas in mind. That’s certainly how this song about our modern dope-sick society was intended. The piano version feels more like a demo track and definitely needs a shot of musical Viagra.
Overall, this collection of reinterpreted songs totally blows the initial releases out of the water. I loved the simple, vulnerable and raw treatment. I felt her love, pain and pleading. Even the irony came through. If I only hear this version from now on, I’ll be very happy. A real contender for album of the year.
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