The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Friday, December 7, 2018 — 5
As we grow up and toss out
the old tools that crafted our
talents, we forget the elegance
and potential that built our skills.
We look at the amateur as no
different from a child on training
wheels, someone incapable of
mastery without the more efficient
gadgets built specifically for the
job. It’s almost as though our
accomplishments are just as much
our tools as they are our work.
But what if we master the art of
the amateur? Bring revolutionary
creations to fruition with the
same gizmos that manufactured
less flashy prototypes? Does that
make it less valid, less worthy of
recognition?
Steve Lacy has built his career
from the one app even amateur
musicians eschew: Garageband.
Growing up in Compton, Cali., he
never expected himself to produce
the track “Pride” for native
Kendrick Lamar’s Pulitzer Prize
winning DAMN.. “Here I was just
creating music — I had no idea
what for. It was just — it felt right,”
he says of some demos he produced
on his iPhone. But all that “iPhone
stuff” scored him major gigs,
from operating as co-executive
producer and guitarist for the
band The Internet to collaborating
with J. Cole. He often jokes about
getting all the glory before the age
of 20: “So this is the ‘Curse’ demo
that would go on to lead me into
a Grammy nomination in high
school for an album I couldn’t tour
— because I was in high school,” he
says of his accomplishments in his
TED talk.
Lacy has accomplished more
in 20 years than many musicians
do in a lifetime, bringing an
underground, overlooked sound
into the mainstream with critical
acclaim. The thing is, you probably
didn’t even notice. Heck, this might
even be your first time hearing
his name. But I’m sure — no, I’m
positive — you’ve heard his music
before. I speak from experience.
I discovered Steve Lacy after
listening to Kali Uchis’s “Just a
Stranger,” his voice distinct against
her high-pitched crooning. Uchis’s
album
Isolation
soundtracked
much of 2018 for me, its tones and
energies hazy but emotive enough
to fit any situation. But something
about that song with Lacy in
particular stuck out to me: It wasn’t
afraid to be funky and bold. As
Uchis and Lacy faintly sang “dollar
bills” on loop in the background, it
felt as though their voices moved
sonically from one headphone to
the other like a pendulum. The
bass was sticky and gave the song
an earthier element against the
psychedelic production. But it was
the attention to detail and nuance
that really got me. I’m still not over
the effects with the line: “She’s a
hurricane / Feel the earth shake,”
Uchis’s voice echoic against a
moment of silence before a crash
reanimates the beat with the word
“shake.” The lyrics and music
worked in parallel to one another.
When I looked up to see who
exactly this Steve Lacy was, I
realized he was not only the track’s
mastermind producer, but that
I’ve heard his music before. He
was there the dozen or so times I
listened to DAMN.. Goldlink’s At
what Cost impressed me enough
for “Crew” and “Some Girl” to earn
honorable slots in my playlists;
Lacy produced the latter. He
even co-produced and sung in my
all-time favorite song off Tyler,
The Creator’s Flower Boy, “911 /
Mr. Lonely”; I was thoroughly
convinced those vocals belonged to
Frank Ocean, despite the crediting
of both. I could go on, but I think
you get the point. Lacy simply has a
magic of marrying his own distinct
style of production with that of
the artists he’s working with. Few
collaborators, if any, devote that
level of care.
It’s easy to excuse Steve Lacy’s
talent as a behind-the-scenes
appeal, an artistry not made
for fame. After all, producers
like Pharrell and Calvin Harris
brought their names to our
attention
through
producing
and singing their own songs.
However, Lacy has done the same
and hasn’t received the same
recognition. His 2017 EP Steve
Lacy’s Demo was developed on his
lonesome and received widespread
critical acclaim. It was notable
for its sophistication despite the
suggestions of his age, a cohesive,
elegant telling of young love in lo-fi,
funk and soul.
The second and third tracks off
the EP, “RYD” and “DARK RED,”
best display this. Their union in
a singular music video embody
the shifty nature of a teenage
relationship, how tremulously it
clings to a sense of certainty in
inexperience. The swagger of his
suggestive, hazy crooning in a
laundromat fizzles to him asking
his girlfriend: “If she was hungry
does she want any food?” This
waning confidence in “RYD”
effortlessly flows into the brisk
insecurity of “DARK RED” as
Lacy ponders, trapped in a truck,
“Something bad is ‘bout to happen
to me / I don’t know what, but I feel
it coming.” The duality and fluidity
of the subject is all encompassing,
down to the video’s night and day
settings. But it never feels forced,
never dignified — Lacy’s appeal is
subtle, obvious without trying too
hard to be profound.
Steve Lacy epitomizes the spirit
of a true artist in his capacity
to work against his limitations,
regardless of whether this is his
inexperience or restriction to an
iPhone. His music explores the
multifaceted hallmarks of youth
in unwavering detail, unafraid
of expressing the anxiety and
dejection that ensues. Despite
a lack in recognition, his nearly
ubiquitous influence on modern
music indicates he is certain for the
impact he strives for.
DIANA YASSIN
Daily Arts Writer
THREE QUARTER
The most underrated and overlooked artists of 2018
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
Steve Lacy is the mastered amateur
It is frankly absurd how little
known SSION’s (pronounced:
“shun”) name is. With the
release of his third studio album
O earlier this year, SSION (also
known
as
Cody
Critcheloe)
cemented himself as one of the
most
innovative
pop
artists
of our generation. Featuring
a mix of punk, pop, funk and
electronic
music,
his
work
provides unprecedented variety
in comparison to 2018’s other
releases.
SSION is truly the jack-of-all-
trades in the music world, not
only producing insanely catchy
hooks and arrangements but
also creating visual components
to accompany his work and the
work of others (see: Robyn). An
artist who is constantly at work,
SSION has already released ones
for “Comeback,” “At Least The
Sky Is Blue” and “Inherit.” In this
sense, O is an album that feels
modern without forgetting its
roots in rock ‘n’ roll, marrying the
visual nature of the 21st century
with the necessity of the album’s
punk atmosphere.
SSION’s greatest strength lies
in his prolific collaboration. Indie-
rock titan Ariel Pink is featured
on the tender “At Least The Sky
Is Blue,” while Devendra Banhart
contributes
to
“Free
Lunch
(Break).” SSION was even able
to pull an appearance from pop’s
avoidant queen Sky Ferreira, who
appears on standout “1980-99,”
which happened to be her first
new material in the long years
following her release of Night
Time, My Time.
Yet, it is the unapologetic
queer representation in his art
that is most important. Other
album standout “Marc and Me”
takes us on a fictional evening
spent with none other than
Marc Jacobs, and SSION has
historically presented his queer
identity in his previous work. It’s
undoubtedly critical for art to
support minority representation
in
today’s
world,
providing
confidence and comfort where it
has been typically absent; SSION
is an artist of necessity, not just
for his multi-faceted, entirely
unique arrangements, but also
for the positive representation of
queer culture he so masterfully
conveys.
DOMINIC POLSINELLI
Senior Arts Editor
SSION mixes pop, punk and funk
DERO ARCADE
DOMINO RECORDING COMPANY
Middle Kids make the kind
of indie rock that will always
have a place in the genre:
It’s
bright,
poignant
and
has a sense of grit that lies
hidden underneath brilliant
harmonies
until
the
right
moment
comes.
With
the
2018 release of Lost Friends,
their
first
studio
LP,
the
Australian
band
cemented
themselves in the industry
with their strengths on full
display. Made up of recently-
married couple Hannah Joy
(vocals, piano) and Tim Fitz
(guitar), with drummer Harry
Day, Middle Kids take the
basics of indie rock to new
heights. While the group is
still relatively unknown, they
have found surprising fans in
those who have discovered
them,
including
legendary
pop musician Elton John. His
support of their single “Edge
of Town” resulted in the first
burst of buzz around their
debut album.
The group’s first release, a
2017 self-titled EP, introduced
them to the music scene on a
high note. A few of the songs
from that original collection
were re-worked for the album,
CLARA SCOTT
Daily Arts Writer
Middle Kids don’t take the easy route
and the band’s growth is clear
even over only a year’s time.
If anything, Middle Kids have
an innate talent for skillful
variety, something that keeps
the listener engaged and the
musicians constantly on their
game. While all of their music
carries the same flavor of
classic indie rock and similar
instrumentation
across
the
board, the band manages to
imbue each of their songs with
a different tilt and feeling,
connecting their discography
while also making sure no two
lines sound exactly the same.
The dynamics of the band
lend themselves clearly and
effectively to their music, as
the closeness between Joy and
Fitz allows the songwriters to
tackle difficult and complex
issues as a team, assessing
their
own
issues
through
profound lyrics and anthemic
ballads. This is all but obvious
in
songs
like
“Don’t
Be
Hiding,” a tune that meshes
its unique and catchy melody
with words that pack a serious
punch. “You don’t have to sell
it I am sold,” Joy sings, “So
give me all your garbage and
gold.” Many of Middle Kids’s
songs hold similarly powerful
meaning, each one offering
three to five minutes of escape
and immersion to anyone who
cares to listen.
That care for emotional
detail and poetry is supported
by
the
group’s
collective
experience
in
music
as
professionally
trained
instrumentalists — Joy is a
classical pianist, Fitz plays
a myriad of instruments and
Day studied jazz at the Sydney
Conservatorium
of
Music.
Their experience with classical
music may seem unconnected
to their current pursuits in
the world of indie rock, but to
the trained ear, it’s plain to see
why their songs work so well.
The band doesn’t take the easy
route melodically, a trait that
enhances their work’s stream-
of-consciousness assessments
of life with fascinating musical
twists and turns. Their songs
range
from
stadium-ready
atmospheric
rock
to
quiet
piano
musings
and
cover
everything in between with an
ease that feels like they always
existed, pulled from the air by
the band’s expert hands.
In Ancient Greek mythology,
creatures known as sirens were said
to have lured sailors to their watery
deaths with their enchanting,
ethereal voices. These sirens now
seem distant, residing merely
within the fantastical tales from
antiquity. It wasn’t until I heard
the surreal, hypnotizing serenade
of Emily Wells that I understood
how those poor sailors could throw
their lives away for a voice.
Wells is an artist like no other.
Her music is so singular, it can only
be loosely contained within the
usual wheel of characterizations: a
mix of R&B and haunting ballads,
electronic
ambiance
balanced
with classical orchestration of
whining strings and hypnotic
drum beats, surreal synth lines,
soft touches of jazz. Her songs
recall a hundred different names
and a hundred different genres.
In fact, the first time her voice
drifted into my previously-empty
existence, I immediately thought
of Amy Winehouse’s modern-jazz
ballads and arresting vocals. But
within the next moment, I had
decided Winehouse was no longer
a sufficient comparison. By the
end of that fateful introduction in
“Mama’s Gonna Give You Love,”
I was drawing blanks trying
articulate what it means to let
Wells draw you into her dream-
like embrace. Even now, I fear this
attempt to capture her essence
falls painfully short of the reality
of the experience she painstakingly
crafts.
A siren: The comparison seems
more fitting with every passing
moment. Wells often appears to
be a mythical, haunting creature
who belongs more in some divine,
alternate reality than among the
lackluster mortal-plane the rest of
us inhabit. Emily Wells is a name
deserving of “household status”
— but just as she has ruthlessly
captured my heart, I almost
hesitate to raise her from obscurity.
Once you hear Wells’s crooning,
there is no escaping her siren’s call.
MADELEINE GANNON
Daily Arts Writer
THESIS AND INSTINCT
Emily Wells has the call of a siren