Watch
Grizzly Bear’s spectacularly weird new video.
When they
quietly went on hiatus after touring their critically-devoured fourth album
Shields back in 2013, no one really knew if they would hear from Grizzly Bear
again. Formed as the solo project of Brooklyn-based musician Ed Droste back in
2002, the band expanded to comprise guitarist and vocalist Daniel Rossen (of Department
of Eagles), bassist Chris Taylor, and drummer Christopher Bear. Over the course
of four full-length records – each as vivid and vital as the next – Grizzly
Bear’s brand of carefully-crafted, harmony-driven indie rock melded nuance,
musicianship, and heart like few others.
Droste and
co. have just released one of the albums of the year, Painted Ruins, and it’s
the sound of a band who have returned positively invigorated. Even for an act
whose music has often betrayed an uncanny devotion to small detail, it’s a
masterclass in intent-drenched songwriting, brimming with exquisite tonal
flourishes, experimental pop tangents, and a huge mood of import and
solidarity. From the sweeping four-part harmonies and sonic wanderlust of lead
singles “Three Rings” and “Mourning Sound” to the virtuosic art-rock finesse of
the likes of “Aquarian” and “Four Cypresses”, Painted Ruins is also easily the
band’s most collaborative album to date.
Why was
‘Losing All Sense’ chosen as the new single? And tell me about its accompanying
visuals.
Ed Droste:
There’s a lot of factors behind why singles get picked, and I’m not always the
one who chooses it per se. I just go with the flow. But ‘Losing All Sense’ felt
like an upbeat, fun thing to release. The video is even more of a dichotomy –
it’s like David Lynch meets the The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills meets
Heathers or something. It’s kind of campy and dark and surreal. I’m so excited
for it to come out. It’s starring my friend Busy Philipps, another friend
Freckle who’s an actress and a prominent genderfluid figure, and others. And
it’s directed by a good old friend of ours, Cody Critcheloe from the band
Ssion. He did an amazing job on a video for Robyn a year or so ago, and he’s an
amazing musician, artist, and director. It’s a real trip. It’s a jaunty song
with a surreal, campy video with sad lyrics. It’s three vibes all mixed
together.
Dazed
Replicant lady finds classic way out of unhappy relationship with owner in "Propagation"
Replicant
lady finds classic way out of unhappy relationship with owner in
"Propagation"
Propagation
is the latest from Com Truise, with an excellent video to go with it by Will
Joines & Karrie Crouse, shot by Zoë White and starring Trieste Kelly Dunn
and Stephen O'Reilly. It has that ideal 2010s look: the technological landscape
of the 1950s with the emotional atmosphere of the 1980s and a select reading of
everything in between, and nothing before or after. Well-trodden ground, sure,
but the footsteps are perfect. From the new LP, Iteration.
I want a
swan as a pet now, thanks to St. Vincent’s new music video for her single, “New
York,” which honestly makes me well up every time I hear it. Chances are you’ve
seen the candy-colored, surreal clip, which dropped earlier today; savvy
viewers might have also realized that the work is actually an Alex Da Corte
production.
Like Da
Corte’s own installations, the three-minute video exists in a whole other world
of hyper-artificiality, with colors all electric and everyday objects made
uncanny. St. Vincent, aka Annie Clark, reclines on a purple set with the
aforementioned swan; sings into a burning bushel of greens; and dries her nails
while smoking. Famous New York City public artworks fittingly make cameos: we
see Clark reading the newspaper on Forrest Myers’ “The Wall” in Soho, and
slowly turning Bernard Rosenthal’s “Alamo,” or the Astor Place Cube.
Da Corte
explained the visuals in a short statement: “I think Annie’s New York is the
New York of my dreams — one that is blurry and fractured, dreamy and flat,” he
said. “It is the Toontown to my Hollywood. It is beautiful but slightly out of
reach.”
His bright
vision is an unexpected complement to St. Vincent’s lament, which begins with
the aching and extremely relatable line, “New York isn’t New York without you,
love,” before delving into more heartbreak.
