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Many critics couldn't even be bothered to review The World That Never Was. Their loss, as the Secret History's debut LP is an altogether brilliant piece of indie pop that combines intelligent lyricism with flawless musicianship. Refining both the style and narrative structure of the Desolation Town EP - also mostly ignored - the band produced a complex and mature record that deserved far more recognition that it received.
World's songs sound immediately familiar but never derivative, inviting but never too polished; its shimmering arrangements hint at influences ranging from '50s girl groups and '60s folk rock to glam rock and '80s British indie. The album frequently sounds buoyant and hopeful, as seen in the intricate harmonies of "Our Lady of Stalingrad" and in Lisa Ronson's pitch-perfect vocals on "Love Theme." Other songs are understated in the sense of tragedy they evoke; songs of mourning like "God Save the Runaways" and "Sex with Ghosts" move at a tempo best suited for a funeral. EP holdover "Our Lady of Palermo" is similar in both style and substance, the loneliness of its "pilgrimage to where God's never been" accented by Ronson's carefully-paced vocals, a martial drumbeat and rising strings.
Dubbed a "requiem for young monsters," World's subject matter is almost always dark, primarily consisting of runaways, travelers, transients, musicians, monsters and dead horror film icons usually dealing with everyday sad shit. Themes of distance and mortality emerge in a vast geography of ghettos, grottoes, European landmarks and all points in between, with Michael Grace, Jr. and Darren Amadio's lyrics - precise lines like, "They buried her there in the garden/ Behind the refinery" - contrasting with Ronson's bright vocals while reinforcing the album's desolate landscapes. It's fitting that one of the album's characters walks "on the shadowy side of the street." So for now The World That Never Was remains an undiscovered masterpiece, and while numerous worthy albums went under the radar this year, it'd be difficult to find one better than this debut from the Secret History
Showing posts with label World That Never Was. Show all posts
Showing posts with label World That Never Was. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Friday, April 09, 2010
The Secret History: The World That Never Was
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Few things in music journalism are more clichéd than a critic's wounded lament for an underappreciated album. Still, I'll tell anyone who will listen - which by now isn't many people - that the Secret History's 2008 Desolation Town EP continues to be criminally overlooked by both the indie press and listening public. Its songs combined buoyant indie pop with trace amounts of the Smiths, glam rock- before it overdosed on its own excesses- and girl group harmonies stripped of their optimistic, cooing overtones. Desolation Town was a predominately dark affair, loosely based around the story of someone who flees the ruins of Hiroshima, stumbles his way through Europe and ends up fairly miserable in Palermo. It was evocative, troubling stuff, a handful of songs whose narrative arcs, set sometime in the past, unfolded like a dream or surrealist film and whose various tragedies felt both timeless and contemporary.
The band follows a similar approach on debut LP The World That Never Was, a deeply-woven, complex and altogether brilliant effort that represents one of the most mature debut indie releases in recent memory. Its songs sound instantly familiar but offer enough variations to distinguish them from their apparent influences, crisscrossing genres with ease. Many of the songs' arrangements are shimmering and bright: after a bit of roughhouse hooligan chanting and clapping, "Johnny Anorak" opens with crunching guitars and a keyboard melody that falls just on the right side of kitschy, "Our Lady of Stalingrad" is an infectious mix of bouncing piano and intricate harmonies and "Love Theme" showcases Lisa Ronson's vibrant vocals. Other songs are more deliberate: "God Save the Runaways" and "Sex with Ghosts" move at a funereal pace against a hazy instrumental mix, while "Our Lady of Palermo" - the only carryover from the EP - is perhaps the album's most disarming track. Set in a "pilgrimage to where God's never been" and sung by Ronson as plainly as possible, it's a stripped-bare song of rain-soaked streets and lost summers whose martial drumbeat and strings are absolutely devastating in their emotional impact.
Songwriter Michael Grace, Jr. ambitiously weaves several thematic strands together; his lyrics are literate but never coldly academic or detached, varied without feeling inaccessible. Although the songs' arrangements are primarily upbeat, their subject matter is almost always bleak. Like on the EP, these songs and their events occur as if in a dream or a movie presented out of sequence. Certain images recur throughout this so-called "requiem for young monsters," most frequently musicians and their awestruck worshippers, ghosts and, of course, monsters; Frankenstein's bride, Marlene Dietrich, Bela Lugosi and, um, a dead babysitter all make appearances. These are songs of distance and loneliness spread out across a vast geography of ghettos, grottos and Super 8 motels, combined with a sense of mortality that is impossible to shake. "They buried her there in the garden/ Behind the refinery," Ronson sings on "Sex With Ghosts," while in other places Grace's characters walk "on the shadowy side of the street" and realize that the "stars shine brighter and brighter/ Until they go out." Grace's lyrics - already solid back in his My Favorite days - have simply never been better or more nuanced.
Plenty of other aspects make The World That Never Was so intriguing - the theological musings of "Sister Rose" and "How I Saved My Life," occasional bouts of dry humor and flawless ensemble performances from the seven-member band also deserve mention - but the album succeeds because its disconcertingly beautiful arrangements and expressive lyrics complement each other so well. If our lives, dreams and little desperations could be put to music, we'd be fortunate if this is what they'd sound like.
Few things in music journalism are more clichéd than a critic's wounded lament for an underappreciated album. Still, I'll tell anyone who will listen - which by now isn't many people - that the Secret History's 2008 Desolation Town EP continues to be criminally overlooked by both the indie press and listening public. Its songs combined buoyant indie pop with trace amounts of the Smiths, glam rock- before it overdosed on its own excesses- and girl group harmonies stripped of their optimistic, cooing overtones. Desolation Town was a predominately dark affair, loosely based around the story of someone who flees the ruins of Hiroshima, stumbles his way through Europe and ends up fairly miserable in Palermo. It was evocative, troubling stuff, a handful of songs whose narrative arcs, set sometime in the past, unfolded like a dream or surrealist film and whose various tragedies felt both timeless and contemporary.
The band follows a similar approach on debut LP The World That Never Was, a deeply-woven, complex and altogether brilliant effort that represents one of the most mature debut indie releases in recent memory. Its songs sound instantly familiar but offer enough variations to distinguish them from their apparent influences, crisscrossing genres with ease. Many of the songs' arrangements are shimmering and bright: after a bit of roughhouse hooligan chanting and clapping, "Johnny Anorak" opens with crunching guitars and a keyboard melody that falls just on the right side of kitschy, "Our Lady of Stalingrad" is an infectious mix of bouncing piano and intricate harmonies and "Love Theme" showcases Lisa Ronson's vibrant vocals. Other songs are more deliberate: "God Save the Runaways" and "Sex with Ghosts" move at a funereal pace against a hazy instrumental mix, while "Our Lady of Palermo" - the only carryover from the EP - is perhaps the album's most disarming track. Set in a "pilgrimage to where God's never been" and sung by Ronson as plainly as possible, it's a stripped-bare song of rain-soaked streets and lost summers whose martial drumbeat and strings are absolutely devastating in their emotional impact.
Songwriter Michael Grace, Jr. ambitiously weaves several thematic strands together; his lyrics are literate but never coldly academic or detached, varied without feeling inaccessible. Although the songs' arrangements are primarily upbeat, their subject matter is almost always bleak. Like on the EP, these songs and their events occur as if in a dream or a movie presented out of sequence. Certain images recur throughout this so-called "requiem for young monsters," most frequently musicians and their awestruck worshippers, ghosts and, of course, monsters; Frankenstein's bride, Marlene Dietrich, Bela Lugosi and, um, a dead babysitter all make appearances. These are songs of distance and loneliness spread out across a vast geography of ghettos, grottos and Super 8 motels, combined with a sense of mortality that is impossible to shake. "They buried her there in the garden/ Behind the refinery," Ronson sings on "Sex With Ghosts," while in other places Grace's characters walk "on the shadowy side of the street" and realize that the "stars shine brighter and brighter/ Until they go out." Grace's lyrics - already solid back in his My Favorite days - have simply never been better or more nuanced.
Plenty of other aspects make The World That Never Was so intriguing - the theological musings of "Sister Rose" and "How I Saved My Life," occasional bouts of dry humor and flawless ensemble performances from the seven-member band also deserve mention - but the album succeeds because its disconcertingly beautiful arrangements and expressive lyrics complement each other so well. If our lives, dreams and little desperations could be put to music, we'd be fortunate if this is what they'd sound like.
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