It started with this diabolically corny video with all these trust fund kids doing this walking-dance with their hands on the person in front of them — I think a couple of them were in animal costumes, too. It was the new offering from Sub Pop Records, this completely hot chick using a fake name (what exactly is “indie” in spirit about that, I wonder) singing like every bit the obedient canary of the aesthetic American cultural machine, which of course she should be. The camera zooms in on her, and she pipes “True love is making a comeback.” The camera then splits to two kids like almost-making out on this couch, as if any tiny modicum of any non-sex behavior is just like so dorky and unconscionable that it’s immediately infused with comedic value.
No wait… it doesn’t stop there. See, Weyes Blood isn’t ONLY funny. She’s also deep and profound a veritable savior of humanity, that is, when it’s convenient for her to wear that cap. So we get the readymade, CVS-aisle wisdom of the line “The meaning of life doesn’t seem to shine like that screen”, this of course again coming from a chick who’s really hot and uses her aesthetic appeal to her full advantage, when it’s beneficial, again, for her to do this.
Look, I’m not knocking this girl’s voice. The vocal talent is there. I’m not NECESSARILY knocking Pitchfork’s (in their 8.5/10, “Best New Music” review of Titanic Rising) annoying habit of saying how the world is going to end in every paragraph, but ideally they would offer SOME SPECIFICS WHATSOEVER of what the he** they’re talking about when they say this. It’s like telling somebody you saw the person who broke into their house and then being like “He look a like a man.”
There are lots of problems with the Pitchfork review of this album, even other than the fact that I think the total amount of commentary about non-lyrical aspects of the music rolls in at about six words. For instance, they throw a veritable Nolan Ryan-caliber logical fallacy at us, one for the ages, impressive even for them: “unlike Joni Mitchell or the Carpenters, whose love affairs were clouded by plain old anxiety and desperation, Mering’s love affairs are clouded by algorithms… As she seeks true love on the jaunty ‘Everyday,’ Mering’s desire for companionship bursts forth like a geyser”… which of course would amount to… um… DESPERATION, the exact thing this douche bag just acted like was all “old” and “creepy” the sentence before. Also, what in God’s name is up with using the term “algorithm,” for the fu**ing love of God? Also I love how all of a sudden Joni Mitchell just sucks. Yeah, that makes sense. This guy is literally making a mockery of the rock and roll canon, all for purposes of propagating his Pitchfork review of this regurgitated manure.
Here’s what I think Weyes Blood is. She’s the person everybody wants to be. She’s a MODEL, for if you’re aping other people like a monkey, a perfect person to TRY TO BECOME, in every way. Except, most people won’t ever have a face like that. It’s the exact opposite of rock and roll, of what American music and indie rock were supposed to be from the start — it’s more like corporate mainstream culture, which would set unrealistic expectations for people and get them to try to consumeristically buy new clothes, make-up, what have you, to try to be like this Weyes Blood chick. But we’re confusing this sociological reference group appeal with actual catharsis, actual emotion and actual music that is REALLY healthy to when you listen to it. In fact, Weyes Blood’s lyrics are written with her left brain, something you can tell by how affectively flat and lacking in character her delivery is.