Search

A Few Short Words

Tag

art

Mark Lanegan & Duke Garwood: With Animals

Article originally appeared on The Music Aug 21st 2018

Mark Lanegan and Duke Garwood have circled each other for over a decade, with Garwood’s guitar strung across both Gargoyle and Blues Funeral, yet, this is only their second double billed album.

Following on from the five-year-old, Black Pudding, the pair have created something a little lighter on the palate, let’s say white souffle by way of the bayou, but that doesn’t betray its density.

For fans of their equally extended careers, there’ll be some retread, though it’s less like local streets and more akin to visiting cemetery kin. The new ground covered is fresh and dirty as turned earth.

Inherently touching and darkly familiar, With Animals dulcet batch of misery is a slow-motion gut punch — the sort of thing that might slip out of a whiskey bottle onto a dusty old porch, staining a permanent lineament. There is so much gravel washed sadness you’d be forgiven for missing the slight social commentaries embedded in Lanegan’s lyrics. The title track’s knife-like chorus, “Girl, you are a murderer,” serves as an ode to meat consumption and also a wonderfully anti-romantic diatribe — combined with Garwood’s cutting compositions, their songs have a tendency to stick in your soul.

Statuesque

I took up my chisel and spent decades learning to sculpt. I watched masters and amateurs, stopped and started, erred and marvelled, sometimes channeling the divine and sometimes chipping it astray. Often, I would simply look at the flecks of my efforts strewn to the ground. Often, I would cry for these scrapped carvings, wondering if my work would ever be done, my mind’s eye always in defiance. One day I showed you my labours, not exactly satisfied but contented by my efforts. ‘I love what you are making,’ you said, ‘but I really love what it’s made from.’

Validation

I have to say it while she’s calm so I might get heard. You make me feel disentitled to my opinion. She doesn’t look at me, ‘Is disentitled a word?’ I think so. ‘And that’s your opinion?’ That’s condescending. ‘No sweetie, that was patronising. This conversation is me condescending.’ You fucking strip me of my humanity and then blame me for being a zombie, like a proper voodoo puppet for you to play with. I feel like I’ve been shot and asked to pay for the medical expenses. ‘Oh, sweetie,’ she says, ‘we both know you couldn’t afford that.’

Divination

Are you seriously asking me if I’ve heard about god? Have you heard of the fucking internet, of art, of television, of books, of fucking humanity? People have been batting that shit over the net for as long as we’ve been scared of the dark. Yeah, I’ve heard about god, and his miraculous cuckold baby. If they have a plan for us all, for me, and it includes the devil and all that rapture battle crap, then it definitely includes me being miserable and screwing up and sinning like, well, every other damned human since the apple was bit.

Fallacy

Dana runs her finger down the shaft and boops it on the tip. I finally managed to drag her to the gallery and she acts in exactly the way I should always expect. You shouldn’t do that, I tell her. ‘Why,’ she says, ‘because of the rope or because of the cock?’ Both? I tell her, it just feels wrong to be molesting marble, some kinda sacrilege, more so if it’s a martyr. ‘Oh, you know me,’ she says, ‘phallus see, phallus do.’ I watch her pirouetting off towards the surrealists and wonder if maybe I’m the crazy one.

Vérité

These days I have to watch art house porn, I can’t get off unless it looks like it was shot on a budget. Not that hand cam kind of shit though, the real life of fucking market that isn’t real or lifelike, I need something that smells of misguided integrity, filmed at obscure angles in front of improbable scenery, with tattoo wielding fringe girls smiling like the Mona Lisa’s pallbearer, and all those grainy lo-fi filters that make it look like someone handed Instagram your fetishes. I guess it makes me feel better knowing the director’s wanking too.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑