
St. Vincent is the stage name of Annie Clark.
Actor is her second album.
Women in rock music is a strange thing.
The only good female rock band Is "Heart".
Back then rock music was made from flaming spirits and steel-plated gold balls.
A rock guitar is a switch blade. A rock guitar should pull a grown mans long hair into the air with its shock waves of sheer bloody awesomeness. A rock guitar should make my hands wave back and forth, like they have lit illegal out of state cherry bombs in them. A rock guitar is the drunken fist fight in your best friends favorite dive bar. A rock guitar is an inmates bloody grasp on the barb wire as he climes the prison wall to American freedom.
How dare St. Vincent use the rock guitar as a brush to paint my iron clad heart with loneliness, despair, weird feelings of regret and a huge chunk of the unforgiving unknown.
In Hearts "Barracuda", we are reminded of good times:
"You're lying so low in the weeds
I bet you're gonna ambush me
You'd have me down, down, down, down on my knees
Now wouldn't you, barracuda?"
Heart understands that rock fans, or shall we say "Barracuda's", would do just that.
However, in St. Vincent's "The Strangers", she is once more a Robert "Downer" JR:
"Desperate don't look good on you,
neither does your virtue
Paint the black hole blacker
Paint the black hole blacker."
This album reminds me just how bad I feel for todays youth. As rock music no longer leads us to the leather boots of the Duke, John Wayne in hell, but to the funny round glasses of John Lennon in a strange poetic purgatory.