St. Vincent by St. Vincent

Formally known by Sufjan Stevens’ tour, as the singer and guitarist The Polyphonic Sphere, and from being featured on the Kid Cudi song “MANIAC”, St.Vincent has established her weirdo identity as an independent artist. St. Vincent is commonly the opener, starting the show for Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear, and John Vanderslice. Or maybe you know her from the soundtrack of Twilight’s sequel New Moon, or from “Rosyn” by Bon Iver. St. Vincent, her fourth album, is just like the singer: creepy, yet a lot of fun. I suppose it makes sense she named it after herself.

St. Vincent’s real name is Anne Clark, but the stage name St. Vincent means a lot to Clark. Though it was also her grandmother’s middle name, St. Vincent is inspired by Dylan Thomas, a poet who died in Saint Vincent’s Catholic Medical Center. Clark said in an interview with New York Times that “it’s the place where poetry comes to die. That’s me”. Born in Tulsa but raised in Dallas, Clark was constantly surrounded by music in her youth. She was the tour manager for her family’s band Tuck & Patti, and later attended Berklee. There, she collaborated to make Ratsliveonnoevil, her first released EP. After dropping out of Berklee, she joined the Polyphonic Sphere. Her fame as a solo artist didn’t take off until after Marry Me, her first solo album. Clark found herself with Actor in 2009 and has accelerated after that with the Strange Mercy release in 2011.

Actor album cover

Clark, in an interview with New Yorks Times, spoke about being a girl in the male dominated indie rock genre: “growing up, I was never made aware of the idea that because I’m anatomically female, my fingers and brain don’t work as well. I never did feel like I was constantly having to overcome, ‘I’m a girl but I can play.’ That’s just silly.” This sure correlates to how unafraid she is to intensely be her weird self. You go girl, St. Vincent.

Clark’s music video for “Actor Out of Work” from the album Actor sums up Clark as an artist. While the context of the video is unclear, the parallelism between Clark in the video and Clark as an artist is uncanny. In a dark, secluding setting, Clark sits in a chair while ordinary people, who aren’t expecting anything soul-crushing line up to meet with her. Clark puts on her boombox and calmly sings, “You’re a supplement, you’re a salve… you’re an extra lost in the scene”. The people, in response, all break down to tears. St. Vincent is happy to be tearing these people apart, as she sings “ooooh”s as if nothing happened. Just like she is in the music video, St. Vincent is disturbing, perplexing, and happy to be shattering people.  

The video for “Digital Witness” has some obvious similarities to “Actor Out Of Work”. Both videos show a mass of ordinary people, while Clark stands out.  Though everyone is shaken by her presence, Clark calmly sings the song. The angle switches between zoomed in to her voice and showing Clark with the other people. These people are dressed identically and constantly performing pointless and mundane tasks. In “Digital Witness”, however, Clark’s gaze is not directly at the camera like it is in “Actor Out Of Work”. She stares all around, as if distracted by something; it can’t be a coincidence that she is singing about TV.  The chorus of the song, which Clark repeats often while a synth follows the notes of her vocals, goes “people turn the TV on, it looks just like a window”. Clark is commenting on how distracting media like TV can, and how people escape their own lives and go into the TV world. “Digital Witness” acts as a criticism for the digitally consumed age we live in.

Around the same time she dyed her hair grayish-white, Clark released St. Vincent. The cover of the album shows Clark seated, proudly showing off her disfigured, oddly colored afro. Her raised eyebrows and solemn mouth combined elicit a “what are you looking at, punk?” kind of feel. Behind Clark is a plastic, rose-colored throne; behind that, a funky black and white beehive pattern which give the entire image a trippy vibe. Clark’s outfit, a long-sleeved shiny black dress that touches the ground, the throne, and her confident and rigid body language make her appear royal. 

“Prince Johnny”, the third track on the album, feels strangely normal at first. Clark, directed at Prince Johnny, sings, “You’re kind but you’re not simple. By now I think I know the difference”. Here, she might be referring to Prince John of the UK, who is believed to have had a type of mental retardation. Clark comes off as kind and understanding which, on second thought, seems pretty out of character.  Then, we hear her wail “remember that time we snorted” and the song suddenly makes more sense. “Prince Johnny” is reminiscent of a Lady Gaga song that’s much less family appropriate.

 Clark ends the album with a beautiful ballad called “Severed Crossed Fingers”, featuring the wonderfully poetic chorus, “spitting our guts from their gears, draining our spleen over years, find my severed crossed fingers in the rubble there”. The disturbia really portrays St. Vincent herself. As Clark puts it, “you can’t apologize your way into people’s hearts, you have to go full force.” She’s starting to make sense to me.