GYARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHI'll tell ya, writing reviews for official publications can be pretty tough sometimes. I can get away with so much garbage here that could never fly in something like The Case Western Reserve University Observer, which I write stuff for. I can write incomplete sentences, I can curse all I want, I don't need to thoroughly explain things so much, I can assume the readers already know so much information about any given artist - otherwise, why would they care to even read the review right? And thus, the great popular draw to blogging.
What's even more difficult, however, is writing a formal review of something you're really emotionally attached to. Like Antony and the Johnsons. I swear, maybe I'm just susceptible to displays of hyper-emotion and grandiosity, and that's very possible, but their music drills nails into my heart every time. I do love me some melodrama and sappy orchestral arrangements just as much as I love me some raw, nasty punk shit (see Mclusky review below), and most of the time, Antony and the Johnsons is my number one prescribed drug for just that. Usually, it'll leave me feeling melancholy in the very least, and at some times, just downright depressed! Hey, if you ever see me lookin' down and out, there's a durned good chance that Antony Hegarty was a part of my day in some way!
BUT IT'S JUST SO FRIGGIN' BEAUTIFUL... GAHHHHH
And "durned" is apparently a word! Didn't know that.
Now you see, folks, that stuff could never fly in The Observer and that's why I have this blog - so I could ramble on about crap incoherently and see if people can take it as (semi-) serious criticism. Or something like that. Anyway, here's what CAN fly in The Observer, and it will fly this Friday somewhere in the Focus section, probably in a somewhat cleaned up and edited version, courtesy of my friend, colleague and co-worker Cory. But here's the original manuscript, warts and all:
ACTUAL REVIEW STARTS HERE:
Antony Hegarty is nearing forty years old, yet his music bears out the notion that he has the wisdom of an eighty year old and the spirit of a child, and most certainly, a voice that is ghostly, too surreal and sublime to even come from a living thing. If 2005’s I Am a Bird Now suggested that Hegarty and his revolving door of musicians, The Johnsons, were an emotive force to be reckoned with, their latest, The Crying Light solidifies it. This is a truly gorgeous work of modern music, transcending the limits of beauty and creating something otherworldly, yet still ultimately human.
The beauty of Antony and the Johnsons’ work is easy to miss out on, particularly because Hegarty’s warbly croon is an acquired taste. He sounds like no other singer out there, lost in time somewhere between 1920s cabaret, 1960s soul and today’s indie vocalizations. He knows that his voice is a unique instrument of its own, and he uses it wisely. Whether he is belting his lungs out, on the soulful “Aeon,” or if he’s filling in negative space with a soft croon, as on something like “One Dove,” his voice is always effective. When backed by modern classical composer Nico Muhly’s rich arrangements on The Crying Light, the result is nothing short of sublime.
Sonically, The Crying Light is very similar to his previous efforts, although a few subtle distinctions reveal that Antony and the Johnsons are not simply repeating themselves. First of all, Hegarty’s lyrics deal less and less with his personal issues of transgenderism, a subject that no matter how universal he could make it appear, was still alienating to some extent. Those themes found in songs like “For Today I Am a Boy” and “You Are My Sister” are gone, and much broader, wide-reaching themes of alienation, desperation and a need to escape the physical and spiritual confines of Earth that were found in songs like “Hope There’s Someone” are now given fuller detail.
The main difference between a song like “Hope There’s Someone” and something like “Another World,” from The Crying Light, however is that in the former, Hegarty fears the inevitability of death, but in the latter, he welcomes some sort of passage to another world, despite the devastating sentiments of “I’ll miss the animals/I’m gonna miss you all.” Elsewhere, themes of a need to find comfort outside of this world are found in some of the album’s most melodramatic moments. After a sudden flirtation with the minor key in “Daylight and the Sun,” the great revelation is revealed in a lifting major section, as Hegarty sings, “Now I cry for daylight.” The album’s final track, “Everglade” concludes these thoughts. “When I’m lying sweetly in my bed,” he sings, “Then I stop/My body stops crying for home,” amidst a rush of oboes and violins.
The second great difference between The Crying Light and I Am a Bird Now is that Antony no longer needs to place focus on guest artists like Devendra Banhart and Rufus Wainwright. Now, he goes it alone, a suitable move for a man whose voice does not need accoutrements and support from others, no matter how notable they may be. Proof is found in the uplifting “Aeon,” which rivals I Am a Bird Now’s neo-soul rave-up, “Fistful of Love,” which featured guitar and vocal work from Lou Reed. Elsewhere, the bouncy “Kiss My Name” and gentle waltz, “Epilepsy is Dancing” also provide respite from the darkness, marking not only some of the album’s lighter moments, but also some of its best.
Perhaps his hyper-emotiveness could become overbearing, but the sincerity and earnestness of Hegarty’s voice and the lush performances of the Johnsons prevent any moment of the album from sounding contrived or banal. And if the melodrama is too much, one only need turn toward one of the album’s highlights, “Dust and Water.” Similar to the album’s stark cover, displaying butoh dander Kazuo Ohno in an epiphanic pose, almost on the verge of death, it is easy to picture Hegarty singing this song’s melismatic chant in a similar position, with his trembling, yet assured voice backed by nothing but a quiet drone. It is a moment of utter beauty in an album full of them, from an artist known for them, and while The Crying Light may not find itself too far removed from Hegarty’s previous work, it cements the singer’s reputation as one of the most unique and important voices in today’s popular music.
Phew. So that's as much about the album as I'd like to muster up for now. I've listened to it a lot over the last week and it still hasn't worn its welcome. So ch-ch-ch-check it out. It's pretty incredible.
And while we're at it, apparently, Antony and the Johnsons were on an episode of Later with Jools Holland! Neato!
And thanks to Bert and Bruce for helping me out with analytics.
And damn you blogger for leaving everything bold.
The beauty of Antony and the Johnsons’ work is easy to miss out on, particularly because Hegarty’s warbly croon is an acquired taste. He sounds like no other singer out there, lost in time somewhere between 1920s cabaret, 1960s soul and today’s indie vocalizations. He knows that his voice is a unique instrument of its own, and he uses it wisely. Whether he is belting his lungs out, on the soulful “Aeon,” or if he’s filling in negative space with a soft croon, as on something like “One Dove,” his voice is always effective. When backed by modern classical composer Nico Muhly’s rich arrangements on The Crying Light, the result is nothing short of sublime.
Sonically, The Crying Light is very similar to his previous efforts, although a few subtle distinctions reveal that Antony and the Johnsons are not simply repeating themselves. First of all, Hegarty’s lyrics deal less and less with his personal issues of transgenderism, a subject that no matter how universal he could make it appear, was still alienating to some extent. Those themes found in songs like “For Today I Am a Boy” and “You Are My Sister” are gone, and much broader, wide-reaching themes of alienation, desperation and a need to escape the physical and spiritual confines of Earth that were found in songs like “Hope There’s Someone” are now given fuller detail.
The main difference between a song like “Hope There’s Someone” and something like “Another World,” from The Crying Light, however is that in the former, Hegarty fears the inevitability of death, but in the latter, he welcomes some sort of passage to another world, despite the devastating sentiments of “I’ll miss the animals/I’m gonna miss you all.” Elsewhere, themes of a need to find comfort outside of this world are found in some of the album’s most melodramatic moments. After a sudden flirtation with the minor key in “Daylight and the Sun,” the great revelation is revealed in a lifting major section, as Hegarty sings, “Now I cry for daylight.” The album’s final track, “Everglade” concludes these thoughts. “When I’m lying sweetly in my bed,” he sings, “Then I stop/My body stops crying for home,” amidst a rush of oboes and violins.
The second great difference between The Crying Light and I Am a Bird Now is that Antony no longer needs to place focus on guest artists like Devendra Banhart and Rufus Wainwright. Now, he goes it alone, a suitable move for a man whose voice does not need accoutrements and support from others, no matter how notable they may be. Proof is found in the uplifting “Aeon,” which rivals I Am a Bird Now’s neo-soul rave-up, “Fistful of Love,” which featured guitar and vocal work from Lou Reed. Elsewhere, the bouncy “Kiss My Name” and gentle waltz, “Epilepsy is Dancing” also provide respite from the darkness, marking not only some of the album’s lighter moments, but also some of its best.
Perhaps his hyper-emotiveness could become overbearing, but the sincerity and earnestness of Hegarty’s voice and the lush performances of the Johnsons prevent any moment of the album from sounding contrived or banal. And if the melodrama is too much, one only need turn toward one of the album’s highlights, “Dust and Water.” Similar to the album’s stark cover, displaying butoh dander Kazuo Ohno in an epiphanic pose, almost on the verge of death, it is easy to picture Hegarty singing this song’s melismatic chant in a similar position, with his trembling, yet assured voice backed by nothing but a quiet drone. It is a moment of utter beauty in an album full of them, from an artist known for them, and while The Crying Light may not find itself too far removed from Hegarty’s previous work, it cements the singer’s reputation as one of the most unique and important voices in today’s popular music.
Phew. So that's as much about the album as I'd like to muster up for now. I've listened to it a lot over the last week and it still hasn't worn its welcome. So ch-ch-ch-check it out. It's pretty incredible.
And while we're at it, apparently, Antony and the Johnsons were on an episode of Later with Jools Holland! Neato!
And thanks to Bert and Bruce for helping me out with analytics.
And damn you blogger for leaving everything bold.
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