Okay, before I get into the polaroid thingy, just a quick straw poll.
I have a few different ideas that I want to write about, but would love your input first. Here are some ideas I’ve been thinking of:
Western Music Theory is Not Enough — Do sharps (#) and flats (b) disturb you? Do you scratch your head at “key”, “transpose” and “interval”? You’re not alone: this system is archaic and doesn’t fit the needs of making music today. Let’s replace it!
Streaming and How Best to Support Your Favorite Artists — Live shows may come back some day, but even then, Spotify will be paying fractions of a penny for hundreds of plays. What changes can we make to these platforms and to our consumption of music in general to make sure being a musician is still viable?
Songwriting Through The Internet — Let’s use AI, randomization techniques and generally computer-y ideas to write an album. It may also end up being a satire of how those things have permeated our culture and understanding of self (?)
Do any of these ideas not actively bore you? Let me know which ones!
Audio Polaroids!
So, recently, Leesta Vall records in NY reached out to me and asked if I’d be interesting in doing a session at their studio! It’s a “direct-to-vinyl” session, which means: I’ll go in, record a number of different takes of my songs—all of which will result in one—and only one!—7” vinyl record. No overdubs, no effects, nada—just me and the guitar, raw! You pick the song, and I’ll include a recorded message if you like. They’ll ship in late January when I do the sesh. If you want to pre-order there’s only about 20 left, and you can that here:
Leesta Vall Direct-to-Vinyl Pre-order — https://bit.ly/bazvinyl
Should be fun, right? :D
500 word review: ”Caroline” by Arlo Parks
“Strawberry cheeks flushed with defeated rage”—in Arlo Parks’ new single, Caroline, she takes the view of a stander-by watching the moment an nearby unknown couple’s relationship implodes, and though its a sort of voyeuristic lens, Parks sounds coolly detached, while still telegraphing intimate details that you could only come into contact with if the parties involved were truly unrestrained in their emotional upheaval. It’s a difficult balance to achieve—if one weren’t actively listening to the lyrics, the theme of second-hand despair wouldn’t be entirely apparent, but at the same time, it does capture also a kind of emotional detachment from strangers that is a facet of the modern age. Perhaps the even-keeled delivery Parks uses reflects the way we have to sublimate our own emotions when we’re faced with unfamiliar emotional suffering.
At the center of the production is Parks shimmering and smooth lyric, delivered in a gentle croon, that breaks out into elongated hollos as she quotes the plea of one half of the couple in the throes of splitting: “Caroline, I swear to god I tried.” There’s an underlying sort of trip-hop pulse throughout, which again lends the song a mellow feel even during the more relatively heightened chorus. You could see it as a distant cousin of Dido (an auxiliary percussion groove helps reinforce the similarity), but at the same family reunion as Radiohead: a Greenwood-esque stilted arpeggio gives hints of Weird Fishes. (Parks is no stranger to Radiohead—she covered “Creep” earlier this year). At various other points, drenched in reverb and delay, you might even hear wisps of Parachutes-era Coldplay.
There are some exquisite details beyond these standout parts, as well. Dark synth patches swell and pitch-shift in the transitions to choruses, mimicking an electropop riser. A similarly-colored hornlike Precise vocal layers create an ornate scaffolding, a crunchy, saturated kit and thudding rounded bass poke through.
I’m a fan of this kind of lyricism—singer-songwriters often get penned in as needing to constantly be focused on their own self-expression, rarer is the song that focuses on telling someone else’s story, despite how incomplete our frame might be. Despite the tone of the music, Parks as narrator isn’t uncaring, as we see recognition of her subjects’ anguish in her words (“Her eyes blind with disappointment”, “I saw something inside her break”) and even empathy (“Everybody knows the feeling”)—and likewise, Parks’ decision to echo the exact words “I swear to god I tried” shows compassion, even though she also notes his furious desperation when “Suddenly he started screaming” and “Ripped the hem of her skirt.”
It all amounts to a sort of moody, cloudy work, but with enough detail of true-to-life reportage that you don’t feel totally ensconced in darkness. Creating space, retelling a story without extreme affectation could seem blasé, but Parks achieves something vital: an unresolved snapshot of tragedy, anomie and secondary angst, filtered by a groove that gives space to reflect on the times we’ve been on either side of heartbreak.
Listen to “Caroline” here: https://arloparks.ffm.to/caroline
Thanks for reading DNOTE!
Miles