What do you get when two people, who each on their own have many followers who believe they can do no wrong, collaborate to create a new entity? David Byrne & St. Vincent’s recently released album is a prime example of what that kind of collaboration makes possible. Fittingly, the project was inspired by another collaboration: When Bjork played a benefit show with Dirty Projectors at Housing Works Bookstore in New York City in 2009. After being both being approached to do something similar, Byrne and Clark began their artistic exchange that has now led to Love This Giant.
What the two musicians have created makes so much sense. It’s fresh, it’s unique, it’s clever, and it just feels so right. The album is dominated by a large horn section and electronic drum beats, along with melodic vocals lines equally delivered by both Byrne and Clark. It’s a pretty even split between them; they each have songs prominently featuring just their vocals, and many have them harmonizing together and trading verses. The arrangements often feel propelled by Byrne’s experimental tendencies, but they are also pigmented with Clark’s virtuosity and wit. As well as they’ve melded their creative sensibilities, the juxtaposition between programmed beats and lively horns is what give the album all the oomph one could ask for. Even this was an organic result, of the duo agreeing that if they were to play an acoustically challenged place like a bookstore, a horn section would make more sense than a regular rock band.
Opening track “Who” was our first glimpse into what to expect from this album, and if you thought, “Damn, that bari sax is killin’ it!” when you heard it, you should know it only gets better.
Byrne and Clark’s embrace of horns is just so on point it’s ridiculous. They are also fond of carefully crafted, tension-building intros that dive into that synthesized beat break backed by blazing brass horns. On “Weekend in the Dust,” the tuba sounds so integral that trying to imagine an electric bass instead is too boring. The somewhat more gentle, yet ominous opening fanfare of “I Am An Ape” leads to a curiously inviting sketch of shrugging modern societal constraints, sung in impeccable harmony over romping percussion.
The dichotomy between the city and nature is felt even more in “The Forest Awakes.” On this one, Clark takes lead, lending flowing, melodic vocals in contrast to a punching, staccato horn line. “I’m free, but I’m keeping my clothes on,” she sings, as if to acknowledge that’s it’s possible to find a release even when surrounded by danger and unknown certainties. Likewise, Byrne takes lead on “I Should Watch TV,” a track that begins with robotic pounding soon overcome with trumpets driven to insanity.
Everything culminates into closing opus track “Outside of Space and Time” leading the listener out a little like David Bowie’s “Space Oddity,” but instead of being left with the anxiety of what it must feel like to be lost in space, we’re left with feeling optimistic about all the possibilities that still exist.
It’s albums like this that we really need to stir the pot, to wake us up, to remind us there’s still much to strive for. No, it hasn’t all been done already. Inspiring works are not only nostalgic artifacts. There are still happening now, while I write this. While you read this. There’s so much more to do, that can be done. Stop watching TV and go out and do it. Make sure to have David Byrne & St. Vincent in your headphones on the way. As she sings on “Optimist,” There’s no room for emptiness on never-empty street.
