[QUEEN AYE] At this point, comparing St. Vincent
to anyone else isnât just besides the pointâitâs downright unfair. Over
the course of four increasingly weird and wonderful solo albums, Annie
Clark has graduated from Sufjan Stevensâ touring guitarist to bona fide
A-lister, making records with David Byrne and debuting songs at Diane
von Furstenberg fashion shows. Her new self-titled record is more a
refinement than a wholesale reinventionâClark has trimmed all the fat
off these lean, funky, primal jams, to the point where nothing lasts
more than four and a half minutes and most of the quotable lyrics (âOh
what an ordinary day/ take out the garbage, masturbateâ she sings on
âBirth in Reverseâ) are opening salvos. All traces of twee (remember
when debut album Marry Me was named after an Arrested Development
joke?) have completely vanished hereâthough thereâs nothing quite as
heavy as her 2012 Record Store Day single âKrokodil.â Many of these
songs are engulfed by blasts of feedback, twitchy six-string solos and
layers of molten fuzz. Where earlier material felt like Clark was trying
to tie pretty moments with splashes of darkness, St. Vincent finds Clark just being, well, herself. Long live Queen Annie.
SEE IT: Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside St., 225-0047. 8 pm Monday, March 24. Sold out. All ages.
WWeek 2015