{"id":28354,"date":"2014-03-14T10:44:04","date_gmt":"2014-03-14T10:44:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.wonderlandmagazine.com\/?p=28354"},"modified":"2016-09-22T14:27:30","modified_gmt":"2016-09-22T14:27:30","slug":"profile-st-vincent","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.wonderlandmagazine.com\/2014\/03\/14\/profile-st-vincent\/","title":{"rendered":"PROFILE: ST VINCENT"},"content":{"rendered":"
The grand high witch of gothy guitar pop gets her disco pants on.<\/p>\n
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<\/a>Pink floral blazer and pink floral trousers both by EMPORIO ARMANI, white cotton shirt by COS, white snakeskin brogues by CHRISTIAN LOUBOUTIN and ring by NOEMI KLEIN<\/em><\/p>\n A rattlesnake, a dense Texan wood and a pair of pale tits. Not Nymphomaniac<\/i>\u2019s surprise third part, but where Annie Erin Clark found an in-road to her fourth, eponymously titled LP as outr\u00e9 multi-instrumental solo project, St Vincent. \u201cSt Vincent\u201d is 11 songs of danceable, experimental disco rock. It\u2019s her Pop<\/i>, her Flowers of Romance<\/i>, her \u201cClapham Common\u201d. Maybe she inhaled too much pre-dance floor hairspray in the late eighties and it\u2019s finally catching up. Either way, Clark \u2013 who has replaced Hasidic brown curls for a glammy white bouffant – is cresting her most unapologetically accessible musical phase. Take it from lead single \u201cBirth in Reverse\u201d, a cocksure tune as tight and latticework-like in rhythm as it is lyrically breezy and existential: \u201cOh what an ordinary day,\u201d she drawls, in the way only a true Southern States native can, \u201c\u2026take out the garbage, masturbate.\u201d Elsewhere opener \u201cRattlesnake\u201d is steered by Innervisions<\/i>-esque modular funk and \u201cBring Me Your Love\u201d\u2019s treated, mutant beat swaps gleaming pop for broody synthedelica.<\/p>\n <\/a><\/p>\n I met Clark in a strange, gated bourgeoisie enclave known as Kensington Village \u2013 the type of haunt you\u2019d expect to have opiate-gilded oxygen pumping from its glass walls. Our chat journeyed everywhere from PJ Harvey\u2019s back catalogue (we both think Is This Desire<\/i> is a career high, and co-hum \u201cAngeline\u201d\u2019s creeping bassline) to starting a black metal band together (Annie, if you\u2019re reading this, I\u2019d like us to be called \u201cExploding Breastplates\u201d).<\/p>\n After all, Clark spent most of her youth perfecting Dimebag riffs in her parent\u2019s house Tulsa, Oklahoma, before moving to Brooklyn. And you can hear it in her music: after stints in bizarre, stadium pop gospel choir The Polyphonic Spree and Surfjan Stevens\u2019 touring band, and as one of Glenn Branca\u2019s 100 Guitars project, she started work on her debut record, 2007\u2019s Marry Me<\/i>. But it wasn\u2019t until the skewed, conceptual sophomore Actor<\/i> that Clark introduced her patented brand of Tourette\u2019s Rock; where sickly sweet Disney lullabies are broken in two by bolts of jagged, overdrive soaked Strat. Like the tar-thick, blackened overcast \u201cThe Nothing\u201d in Neverending Story,<\/i> songs like \u201cActor Out Of Work\u201d and \u201cLaughing With a Mouth of Blood\u201d are seasoned with a generous dollop of shrieking, morbid blues instrumentation.<\/p>\n