BR’ER
– of shemales and kissaboos
(CD, beatismurder)
There ain’t a lot of things in this world that spell
sadness better than songs on a record that seem to crawl back into the
speakers for reluctance of coming out and make themselves heard. Usually one
would believe that if a songwriter sat down to actually record some music,
send it out, find a label willing to release his music, and whatever else is
involved in making the step from bedroom-strumming to being a real musician,
all of this then would involve a minimum amount of extroversion and
self-confidence that is above average of regular folks. Well, think again.
The step to becoming a real artist usually is selling
your art, because then you have made the step from hobby to profession, from
amateur to profi. And what is a hobby-artist else than a lame excuse. (And
what is a real artist else than a sell-out?) As I said, usually, because at
times there are artists so introverted and reluctant to show themselves,
their art seems to cringe at idea of being watched / listened / touched. How
these ever get to find a publisher is a bit of a mystery, but one that just
adds to the story. And maybe it is the only way to go by.
Br’er are one of those rare plants. Their album ran a
few times while I was doing other things and all that remained or that I
remembered was the moment, when the music was over. I had to sit down and
get my mind to listening to these songs – and got distracted often enough
– but when I had peeled off the protective skin I found wonderful, subtle,
fragile pop songs, so melancholic and bittersweet, I felt as if I had raped
them by prying open their cover. Like the one time I found a blindworm in my
garden and picked it up and then it dropped its hind part (like they will do
to distract predators, hoping that they will feast on the wiggling endpart
rather than the more important rest) and I was so sorry, because I didn’t
want to frighten the hell out of it.
Interestingly though, there are a lot of songs on this
album that are actually rather wild and distorting themselves, like the wild
piano banging on “Rory Snake Handler” or the noise parts in “Glory
Hole” (and somebody told me of the other meaning of this) or the harsh
techno beats at the beginning of “Emily the Bear”. And with an album
titled “of shemales and kissaboos” you might think that shyness is not
one of the major traits of this music. Maybe it is just the mix that seems
to be all about everything being mixed in the back, behind everything else.
Like MC Escher at the mixing desk. And Jamie Stewart in the back serving the coffee.
