LP1 is the definition of a slow-burn.
It is also generically diffuse - there are elements which feel like RnB, EDM, even gregorian chants - part of the album's tension are the sudden shifts in style and aesthetic.
'Preface' begins with the unsettling, multi-tracked line "I love another/And thus I hate myself". Repeated over an increasingly aggressive bed of electronica, it feels like passing through a gateway to another world.
'Lights On' shows things down, but remains unnerving (the chorus particularly so). It sounds like a slow jam for an alien mating ritual - and that is a compliment. Thinking back, I really should have put this review out October. It's not Halloween-related, but LP1 is definitely spine-tingling.
At first I thought 'Two Weeks' was about a woman telling a man to pleasure her. Because it is so forthright, and the vocal is occasionally hard to make out, I thought it was about a woman's sexual agency, and how she focuses on her own sexual pleasure. After reading the lyrics, I was a little less taken with it.
It is still a great song that I have listened to repeatedly, but the lyrics feel slightly conventional in theme (a woman seducing a man away from his significant other). The gender inversion is interesting, although with this song, I began to really notice the divergence between the lyrics and the tone of the production.
What is frustrating and intriguing about LP1 is that these components are so unified and distinct that by the middle of the album, I find myself giving into it, and letting the words and sounds congeal around my brain. The album feels like a series of seismic movements, with little breathers in-between.
Twigs started as a dancer, and there is something very body-centric about the music on LP1. If you watch her music videos, or the choreography in her live shows, it all syncs. I even found this myself - when I listened to the album seated, it feels discordant and unsettling. When I went for a walk, suddenly it began to make sense. The rhythms, the odd beats, the moments of silence - I could feel the pace of my walking and breathing shifting in time with the flow of the music. It was exhilarating, and the music began to feel more organic and - perversely - empathetic.
Back to misunderstanding the album.
'Hours' is produced by the great Dev Hynes (Blood Orange; Solange's Free EP; and the resurrected Sugababes' unreleased comeback album) but the sound of all the songs is so cohesive I only figured it while I was looking at his credits.
'Video Girl' feels like one half of an argument where you don't really get what it's about: infidelity in the pop music world? A look at the superficiality and ignominy of video vixens?
Maybe. Whatever the intent of the lyrics, the slowed-down trap soundtrack underscore the spare lyric with menace. Combining naiveté the birth of youthful dreams and a smidge of narcissism, the song builds to a near-martial beat.
Backed by what sounds like a processed bell (A warning? For the subject of the lyric? Or the narrator?), 'Numbers' is even more unsettling. Good sequencing can add new meaning to songs, and having this song follow 'Video Girl' made it feel like a spiritual sequel, building on that track's theme of lost innocence, from the reductive image of the 'video girl' to a notch on some guy's bedpost.
Starting with multi-tracked, echoing chorus, 'Closer' sounds like the Alien Queen covering Enya. That being said, the choral effect of the voices make this track feel more intimate and warm than the chilly electronica around it. Coming after so much darkness, lyrically and sonically, 'Closer' feels like a turning point in the record. When listened to in sequence, there is something weirdly euphoric and uplifting about 'Closer', like the narrator has finally overcome fear and distrust to open themselves to the world and new relationships.
Buoyed by a more assertive vocal, 'Give Up' is an imperative. The conflict of previous songs is replaced with commands and assertions. The previous songs have been from point of view of someone who wants to please, to be malleable to the desires of someone who never articulates what those desires are. In 'Give Up', the narrator directly confronts this unseen spectator, demanding they respond.
With a slightly more overt trap influence and a catchy chorus, 'Kicks' feels the closest thing to a pop song on the album. It is still weird as hell, but there is the spine of a torch song here. The narrator mourns a lack of purpose outside of a relationship - ironically, her solution is to emulate his behaviour.
And then the album ends, as mysteriously as it began. As Keanu would say, "Whoa".
In the last couple years, I have been a fan of this new futurist pop/RnB. Of the artists I have listened to (Tinashe, Kelela, KING etc), Twigs is the most extreme. Trying to frame her work in a digestible way has been ridiculously difficult. I consider myself a music fan, but I am no expert. I usually try to focus on broader concepts of what the artist is trying to accomplish, and try to offer analysis based on what history and context I know about the artist and their influences. Due to my relative illiteracy in musical terminology, I tend to focus on lyrical content.
With LP1, I found my usual approach completely inadequate. I still don't know what the hell is going on here. Every time I think I have a handle on what she is doing, it feels inadequate, or off-base. The music is unquantifiable, in the best way possible.
Listening to FKA Twigs, it feels like I have stumbled into the future of something. Of what, I am not exactly sure. But I am looking forward to learning more about it.
Tangentially related (?)
Tinashe's Aquarius
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