There are probably about 11 people in this world that know about St. Vincent. I am one of these people and I think that makes me a hipster in some way.
St. Vincent is the name of Annie Clarke, a singer-songwriter-instrumentalist with the whispery, silver-tongued voice of a siren. Her music is a medley of tunes, harmonies, and melodies, containing elements of jazz, classic rock, and pop, not to mention a wide range of instruments, whether it’s a chirpy flute or smooth, harmonious piano pop. With such a huge variety of music to work with, it’s almost impossible to pull off. Yet St. Vincent does, with so much passion and grace that it takes your breath away.
Her third album, Strange Mercy, which was released last month, is a cacophony of noise, beauty, and fragility. Each track is a story of its own, each song tumbles and spills over itself, seemingly messy and amplified, but still a melody, and a great one at that. The eccentric lyrics are offset by the twisted nature of the music – a wavering synth here, an off-key note there.
“Northern Lights” starts off with a rebellious punk rock tune and slowly ventures into a disharmony of noise and electricity. As St. Vincent sings, her voice taking a background to the music, grows increasingly higher-pitched. “Chloe in the Afternoon” begins with the piercing note of an organ and merges with an unruly-sounding sequence of guitar riffs. “Cruel” is a clash of piousness and defiance as St. Vincent’s voice interchanges between a sweet, melodious hum and a darker, sharpened-down pitch.
Her music is the type which makes you want to lie in bed and to fall asleep crying. (Not that I’ve done that before.) Her songs would play in the background as you drift through the space-time continuum. She could sing as you explore a haunted house inhabited by beret-clad hipster-zombies.
Her songs are unforgettable masterpieces. They are the kind of songs that you dislike when you first listen to them, but can’t stop listening to and suddenly find that you’ve downloaded the entire album. They are songs you try to sing in the shower but can’t, and you never will be able to because that’s what Annie Clarke does – she does the unthinkable.
