St. Vincent can do no wrong.
Is there anything she puts out that isn't covertly brilliant? In a word: no. Whether she's meticulously crafting a beautiful studio album or providing guest vocals for artists such as Kid Cudi, St. Vincent is always pushing the envelope and further establishing herself as a major player in the indie music scene.
With "Strange Mercy," her third LP since 2007, St. Vincent, whose real name is Annie Clark, provides an intimate listening experience, with darker lyrics than her past albums and sparse, gentle instrumentation peppered throughout.
These elements create a solid and likable collection of songs that you may catch yourself humming throughout the day.
Some albums suffer from front-loading — in that the better songs are placed near the beginning of the record — and "Strange Mercy" is done in a similar way, in that the first five songs have more kick and loud, distorted guitars, while the remainder of the album's songs are far quieter and more withdrawn. This dynamic brings the album to life as each song has a distinct personality.
St. Vincent kicks things off with "Chloe in the Afternoon," a lyrically vague song dealing with heartbreak mixed with a huge drum beat and sloppy guitars. She lets her composed vocals soar on the chorus, and the song conveys its message well — things are most definitely not OK. The next few songs set the theme for the rest of the album — bad relationships and the regret that comes coupled with them. When she croons "I've played dumb / When I knew better / Tried too hard / Just to be clever / I know honest thieves / I call family," it quickly becomes evident she is hurt in a primal way and wants to seek some sort of redemption. This concept is especially relatable as it evokes a very human side in her writing.
The real gems of the first section of the album are by far "Northern Lights" and "Surgeon." With the former, St. Vincent shows off her punk side and injects the song with enough riot grrrl spunk that would make even Courtney Love proud. The guitar lines are slick and rubbery, providing some of the best riffs found on the album. "Surgeon" is the lead single off the album and for good reason. The song uses a queasy, seasick feeling to channel the tumultuousness of a rocky relationship. At the same time, it is extremely catchy, possessing both a reoccurring, fleet-fingered guitar lick as well as a funky synth solo toward the end that can only be described in two words: pure swag.
Right after "Surgeon" is the title track, "Strange Mercy," which marks the beginning of the second part of the album. Things slow down considerably, and disdain begins to tinge almost every line of the lyrics. If the first few songs were the breakup, this song begins the recovery. Light, strummy guitar chords mix with an unwavering drum beat to give a detached feel — St. Vincent is learning to get over her past love.
The album continues in a similar manner, and the lyrics become more and more spiritual, showing a metaphorical strengthening and healing. "Champagne Year" evokes the vocal line from Jeff Buckely's version of "Hallelujah," and with St. Vincent's powerful yet airy voice, the sound absolutely glows in an immaculate light. Album closer "Year of the Tiger" is another notable track simply because of its rock 'n' roll minimalism. Set against light horns, unassuming drums and transparent chords, it does the album justice and ends it with a sense of hope and renewal.
St. Vincent has done it again. "Strange Mercy" is yet another critically acclaimed work she can proudly add to her discography. Despite exploring some dark themes, the album comes off as ethereal and delicate, which is hard to come by in music these days. At this rate, she may very well go down as one of the best songwriters of our generation.