The return of Everett True | 48. FKA Twigs
You see, shit like this really puts me off artists.
For New Year’s Eve 2013, Young Turks threw a special party in Tulum, Mexico. Here, FKA twigs performs Hide amidst Mayan ruins.
I mean, how’s this any better than promoting your local Australian music festival with Native American imagery and saying it’s cos you’re drawing “inspiration from a variety of mythological creatures and ancient cultures to help support the festival’s strong focus on freedom”? Is it OK cos she’s cool, or ethnic, or something? Is it fine cos the hipsters in the music press (the few left) like her? Whatever. I didn’t actually place FKA Twigs here in the coveted-by-none Song of the Day series just so I could whine about misplaced cultural appropriation and double standards in the liberal world. Really. I placed FKA Twigs here in the coveted-by-none Song of the Day series because I fucking dig FKA Twigs’ latent, potent groove some – the echoes, the spooked silences – and thought it’d be just nice if I was almost on time for once. Her voice lingers where previously only dull tinnitus held sway. Her voice lingers and hints at a turbulence that could yet come. The thing is, it’s a fine line between syncretism in music (GOOD!) and cultural appropriation (BAD) and most all those who straddle it can be accused of both simultaneously, pretty much without contradiction. Some of it must be down to individual perception, taste. Whatev’s, vert.
Some of the vocal styling and electronic intrigue and solipsist groove of FKA Twigs reminds me of relatively unknown Australian artists such as kyü and Pikelet (a little) and Rainbow Chan and all those before who followed all those who came before, and – well, there’s a bit of an element of the coffee table/Jools Holland crowd to this, so my familiarity with such names might not be all that. (Am I ever all that in 2014?)
I guess what I’m saying here is that I’m spotting a little bit of a trend and… well, that’s to the fucking good, ain’t it? Rather this than another 20,000 spotty white boy rich kid muso bands who think Radiohead are soulful simply cos it’s hard to understand where the fuck the melody is in most their tunes.
Here. You should get in line.
It’s a bit fucking PROPER music, isn’t it? You know: stuff that even Radiohead fans might not sniff at (Radiohead being right on and liberal, it means in 2014 it’s OK for their fans to admit to liking some female acts, long as it ain’t too many).
That’s OK, Jerry. You don’t need to be scared. Take a deep breath now. 1-2-3. 1-2-3. 1-2-3. Peak. Trough. Plateau. Peak. Trough. Plateau. Come on. You can make it through this.
Peak, trough, plateau.
I mean, not everything can be Brooke Candy, can it? (WHY Lorde, WHY?)