“Seduction is when the invitation is better than the party itself”, Annie Clark — otherwise known by her stage moniker St. Vincent — says, looking deadpan at her out-of-shot interviewer.
Though to believe blithely that Clark said this is flawed; St. Vincent, as an artist, is built upon an identity that is clearly constructed for the media. It’s interesting that Clark is so regularly referred to by her name — rather than St. Vincent — amongst journalists and fans alike, despite this intentional identity projection. We try to grasp onto the personal in someone who so clearly is giving us a character performance. It’s this tightly wound tension between play and reality that drives much of her music, especially St. Vincent’s latest release, MASSEDUCTION.
MASSEDUCTION is a pop album that reaches out for mainstream success (it’s in the name, after all), while ruminating on the loneliness and alienation that can be found when you get there. Written after a romance with supermodel Cara Delevingne that landed Clark in mainstream media with a bang, this is possibly the most danceable break-up record you’ll hear.
Clark has described MASSEDUCTION’s aesthetic as ‘absurdist dominatrix’. The album artwork is bright, obnoxious, and provocative. A woman bends forward, rear facing the viewer, clad in a leopard-print leotard and neon-bright tights. Clark traditionally toys with her own image on her album covers; now, while on the brink of the spotlight, she quite literally flips things around, by hyper-sexualising herself beyond the point of the absurd. Except, to deepen the irony of course, it’s not even Clark at all on the cover. The mixture of playful wit, irony, and that hint of vulnerability is indicative of the album as a whole.
Songs tread the line between tragedy and comedy delicately. ‘Hang On Me’ muses about suicide over a throbbing bass. (“Yeah, I admit I’ve been drinkin’/The void is back and I’m blinkin’”.) ‘Pills’ is a manic dance track on a year of overmedication, with backing vocals from Delevigne to boot. Disco rhythms drive ‘Sugarboy’, but balance is found throughout, with a piano-driven ‘New York’. Celebrity and all of its trappings is considered — in ‘Happy Birthday, Johnny’, Clark’s ever-returning friend is accusing her of letting fame get to her head.
Despite all of the trappings, Clark’s lyrics feel deeply personal and heartfelt, and her sound is original and innovative. True, there’s no doubt that this is a pop album. Jack Antonoff — who has worked with Lorde and Taylor Swift — produced the album. Yet to try and fault it for some sort of subsequent soullessness would be doing myself, and the music, a disservice. It’s beautiful, catchy, and impossible to turn off. No matter how many masks are donned and personae are presented, this album will speak to fans.
Rating: ●●●●●
