St. Vincent – Actor

Actor, the sophomore LP by St. Vincent, keeps to the same cover art formula as her debut LP. Greeted by Annie Clark’s exuberant, innocent expression, we see her mop of curled black hair, and her intense but youthful green eyes. On Marry Me, Clark’s debut, she had no issue forcing you to make eye contact with her; her album title and forward looking glance were both seductive and frightening. Red lips ablaze, she was an invitation and proclamation of strength amidst longing. On Actor her glance is turned, if ever-so-slightly. She’s no longer looking at you or asking a question; instead, she’s turned half-profile, perhaps an indictor that she’s feeling a bit more shy than last go round and would rather have you stare from a safe distance. Oh, and I think she’s recanted that offer of marriage.

Like the album’s cover, Clark’s songs have some physical and metaphorical distance on them. The title alone may suggest that she’s trying on different skins or even having her strings pulled by an unknown puppeteer. “Marrow” explores this conundrum with its orchestral version of The Pixies’ formula. Clark begins singing gorgeously over flute trills about connected body pieces before breaking apart and pushing her voice through a distorted mic while singing, “H-E-L-P, help me.” The baritone saxes behind her sound like they’ve just run headfirst into a brick wall and are wailing to be put back together again.

Clark’s juxtaposition of sounds and lyrical content are her forte and she sounds vibrant with either palette. Occasionally, she will toss off a gorgeous stringed-ballad like the penultimate album number “Just the Same But Brand New;” other times she goes for fuzzed out rockers like “Actor Out of Work.” But it’s when the two models meet within the same song that provides the most astounding and often sexy listens. “The Strangers” creeps like a black and white movie theme for the first few minutes before becoming a grungy slog and then reverting back again. “Save Me From What I Want” begs the statement mentioned in the title, but only half-heartedly. Instead of sounding certain, Clark sounds delightfully resigned like a placating addict telling her family what they want to hear. “Laughing with a Mouth of Blood” is the culmination of Clark’s lovely and dark musical and lyrical content. In the song there is a split personality who questions the narrator’s actions in a call and response form: “laughing with a mouth of blood/ from a little spill I took/ (what are you laughing at?)” It comes off like the angel/demon on the shoulder scenario, only the angel isn’t really sure who she (or he) is serving anymore.

Clark, a Berklee School of Music dropout, has cut her teeth touring with The Polyphonic Spree and Sufjan Stevens. Both artists are epic in scope and gigantic onstage almost to the point of caricature. Even though she doesn’t share much in common with the martyred saint of the same name, (save for a sense of devastation) she does not mask her emotions under a guise of self-righteousness or expectation. And her musical personality could likely fill a stage on its own. She’ll bare her soul, but not exploit it and she’ll invite you in for dinner, but also slip out the back door and leave you sitting at the table alone. It’s the playfulness in her music that makes for pure showmanship and intrigue and, honestly, I’m a little frightened of what she’ll do next. But I can’t stop myself from wanting to know.

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Tagged as: Brooklyn, pop/rock

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