The record’s cover shows Annie Clark aka St. Vincent sitting on a throne like a High priestess. The image couldn’t fit any better, especially since she once described the main theme of »St. Vincent« to be the search for a future cult-leader. In addition, she sounds so very self-confident and majestic on this record that she has saved herself a seat at the Pantheon, not only as a goddess of guitars. What Annie Clark herself calls »a party record you could play at a funeral« might actually be her most ambitious, demanding and versatile album. Her vocals range between Sinead O’Connor’s fragility and the anger of the early PJ Harvey. She even manages to press out a chichi teenage-pop-screeching, so that the beginning of »Digital Witness« almost sounds like a Katy-Perry-single – if it wasn’t for the ever-present wink behind it all. The compositions, surprisingly poppy despite their complexity, are best described through there foregrounded grooves, and, of course, the sporadic guitar-outbursts. Annie Clark has challenged herself and her musicians, says that her songs are more clever than herself, so that the listener might feel a little challenged by it all. We happily say »challenge accepted« and take it as yet another reason to have a closer look at St. Vincent.
St. Vincent
