“Sirens” is about the bewilderment that precedes longing, the space between “everything hurts” and “oh there's a nail stuck in my back,” it’s like the relief mixed with fear that comes from finally finding the target. We haven’t hit it yet - but we know where to aim, that’s where the “And Yet”-ness of this song is. Another theme that seems prevalent throughout the album is obstacles into antidotes. I mean, what a bummer right? "Only the violence will ever hold me tight” but if there’s no getting rid of then our only sane option is to learn to dance with it. This is all lyrical…musically we wanted it to feel like dancing alone, weeping in a crowd, and somehow even relaxing into that melancholy, the sensual side of sorrow, the mournful side of joy.
For the visual pairing, we wanted to make a mini sci fi film that was equally dystopian and utopian. What we came up with was a world where only artists are allowed to run for any government positions, the presidency is always shared between two people. In our world two legends won, Tim Heidecker and Mitra Jouhari, and in this world everyone's a masseuse and massages are mandatory (played by myself and the amazing Dorian Wood) and crying is obligatory and enforced by law.
Devendra Banhart | Sirens
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beni itilmiş bi' köpek gibi hissettiren şey, beni iyi etti. acılarla yüzleştikçe kendime vardım. kendime geldim. ne de olsa ben, acıdan başka bir şey değildim. birilerinden gittikçe yaklaştım benliğime. bir gün öyle kaçtım ki herkesten, benimle karşı karşıya ve kimsesiz kaldım. söz verdim, yalnızlıktan geberene kadar yalnız başıma yalnızlıktan kaçacaktım. geberemedim ama sözümü de tutamadım. savaş meydanında tarafsız ve silahsız kaldım. geceleri rüya görmeyeyim diye uyumadım. beni ayakta tutmaya çabalayan zihnimin nefretle küfürlerine şahitlik ettim. en başta kendimden, en sonda yaşamdan olmak üzere tiksindim. yetmedi. tiksindirdim. bana acıyarak bakan gözleri kanatmak, kan ağlatmak istedim. içimdeki boşluğu, hiçbir yere ve hiçkimseye âit olamamanın kırgınlığını anlattım sessiz kalarak. kendime defalarca bir hiçliğin içimde yaşadığını ve bir hiçliğin içinde yaşadığımı tekrarladım.
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Tim Clarke’s 2023: Ears on the Prize
1. Rozi Plain — Prize (Memphis Industries)
Even though it was released way back in January, Prize is such an understated album that it nearly slipped under my radar completely. It popped up on some mid-year lists, including that of Dusted’s Margaret Welsh. The initial hook for me is that Rozi Leyden plays bass in This is the Kit (see my #3), but I had no idea she wrote and released her own music. From initial listens I was utterly beguiled, the economy of the songwriting and the richly colorful arrangements drawing me into obsessive repeat listens. Prize is a supremely absorbing and gently uplifting album, and one that I’ve played and enjoyed more than any other this year. Its beauty and clarity gradually reveal subtle, intoxicating depths.
2. Jana Horn — The Window is the Dream (No Quarter)
If Prize dominated my listening in the second half of 2023, it was The Window is the Dream that took pride of place in the first half — and it was one of my picks in the Mid-Year Exchange. They’re similarly oblique and alluring albums, but Horn’s record is shot through with a shadowy disquiet that seems to evoke a love gone sour. The chemistry among Horn’s band, especially the standout turn from electric guitarist Jonathan Horne, is truly something to behold, and elevates this superficially simple album into another realm entirely.
3. This is the Kit — Careful of Your Keepers (Rough Trade)
Rozi Leyden has played a key role in not one but two of my favorite albums of the year. The second is This is the Kit’s Careful of Your Keepers, notably produced by Super Furry Animals’ Gruff Rhys. Rhys shepherded the long-standing indie-folk band to create their best album to date, on which Kate Stables’ intimate songwriting is given a fresh, expansive dimension.
4. Wilco — Cousin (dBpm)
It was producer Cate Le Bon’s involvement in Wilco’s latest that piqued my interest, but thankfully Jeff Tweedy and co. have also brought their A-game on this one. Supposedly conceived pre-pandemic and then shelved, Cousin is a gloriously deep and emotionally engaging album from a band who have always seemed, to me, on the verge of creating something great, but never quite get over the line. With Le Bon’s help, Cousin takes a confident step beyond.
5. Pile — All Fiction (Exploding in Sound)
It’s taken for granted that Pile can dole out cathartic, noisy guitar records, but All Fiction feels different. Rick Maguire, Alex Molini and Kris Kuss maintain the electric dynamic they’ve always possessed, but shift their focus onto making the music between the crescendos more immersive and textural. It works brilliantly.
6. Meg Baird — Furling (Drag City)
Furling was released so early in the year, and so much great music has been released since, that it’s easy to forget just how good it is. As noted in my Dusted review, “Baird’s voice is an instrument of rare beauty, simultaneously assured and elusive, like a soft-focus Sandy Denny wandering in a fever dream.” When you situate such a voice within some of Baird’s best songs to date and embellish them with sensitive playing by her partner, Charlie Saufley, you’ve got a record of enduring beauty.
7. Devendra Banhart — Flying Wig (Mexican Summer)
Flying Wig is the second album on this list to be produced by Cate Le Bon. Here, Le Bon’s aesthetic is writ large, from the melancholy drift of the synth arrangements to the heavily modulated saxophone parts. Through it all Banhart sounds acutely lonely, while also luxuriating in the beauty of his musical backing. It’s a heady vibe, that’s for sure.
8. King Krule — Space Heavy (XL)
There are few musicians who simultaneously come across as hopelessly spaced out and gutturally pissed off at the same time. Archy Marshall is one of them, and his latest album drifts even further into dislocation and bewilderment than 2020’s stellar Man Alive!
9. Arrowounds — In the Octopus Pond (Lost Tribe Sound)
No other album released this year has quite sounded like Arrowounds’ In the Octopus Pond. It’s a singular and immersive blend of ambient and post-rock that evokes exemplary reference points such as Bark Psychosis, Dif Juz, and The World On Higher Downs. And if you enjoy this, Ryan Chamberlain has released another three albums this year, each venturing in a different direction.
10. Cory Hanson — Western Cum (Drag City)
Wand’s Cory Hanson put out his excellent second album, Pale Horse Rider, in 2021. It features a little six-string extroversion here and there, but doesn’t quite prepare the listener for album number three. Western Cum is Hanson in full guitar-hero mode; his playing is absolutely blistering. Though nothing on the album quite surpasses early single “Housefly” for sheer wind-in-your-hair thrills, Western Cum is a supremely enjoyable rock record, built to be played loud.
Also excellent (in alphabetical order):
Activity — Spirit in the Room (Western Vinyl)
Daniel Bachman — When the Roses Come Again (Three Lobed)
BCMC — Foreign Smokes (Drag City)
Califone — Villagers (Jealous Butcher)
James Ellis Ford — The Hum (Warp)
PJ Harvey — I Inside the Old Year Dying (Partisan)
Tim Hecker — No Highs (Kranky)
Blake Mills — Jelly Road (New Deal / Verve Forecast)
The Necks — Travel (Northern Spy / Fish of Milk)
Andy Shauf — Norm (Anti-)
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