Julia Holter’s exquisite live performance

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Mar 17, 2016).

After the captivating live rendition of “Goddess Eyes I,” Julia Holter smiled to the audience and remarked that the only thing she could see that night in the background of Allston’s dimly-lit Great Scott was the live stream of former U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and Senator Bernie Sanders’ Democratic presidential debate on TV. The audience immediately burst into laughter.

As the debate was taking place, Holter and her band mesmerized Boston with their celestial and enchanting music as part of Holter’s North American tour with Haley Fohr, otherwise known as Circuit des Yeux. With a diverse setlist showcasing songs from both her latest and earliest records, and an amusing band of talented musicians, Holter’s concert was nothing short of excellent.

Haley Fohr, the main pillar of the eerily charming music act Circuit des Yeux, opened the show in the densely crowded and intimate Great Scott. Those who have been following Fohr’s career will know that she is not a newcomer to the music scene, but those who are hearing the name Circuit des Yeux for the first time will likely find the singer-songwriter’s music unexpectedly haunting and, at the same time, undoubtedly riveting. With her slender physique and long hair that covered her face throughout most of the show, Fohr at first might seem like a timid performer, but her resonating baritone voice and ecstatic blend of goth, folk, and rock music will leave any audience member in awe.

The stark contrast between Fohr’s and Holter’s live music and appearances was one of the most striking and well-employed aspects of the show. Whereas Holter’s live music and performance are dominated by a sense of transcendental peacefulness and childlike playfulness, Fohr’s music and stage persona can easily evoke feelings of fear and even horror, which might make Circuit des Yeux seem like an unnatural choice of an opener. This juxtaposition, however, served as a wonderful segue when Holter and her band joined Fohr on stage to collectively perform a cover. In those few minutes, Holter’s serene and Fohr’s tempestuous vocals provided an unlikely but successful auditory synergy that completely justified the disparity between the opening and main act.

After a few minutes of setup and stage readjustment, Holter and her band — consisting of Dina Maccabee (viola, vocals), Devin Hoff (bass), and Corey Fogel (drums, vocals) — took over and opened the setlist with “Silhouette” from her latest record. Smoothly transitioning from Have You in My Wilderness and Loud City Song to Holter’s older albums Tragedy and Ekstasis, the quartet delivered a laid-back but nonetheless astonishing performance. The intimate setting of Great Scott, where murmur and vocal cues between Holter and the band members were easily heard across the space, bolstered the quality of their performance. Embracing the physical closeness to the audience, the band fully surrendered to the present moment and allowed their body language to closely mimic the diverse rhythmic portfolio of Holter’s songs.

The greatest value in seeing Julia Holter perform live, however, was witnessing the alluring orchestration and vocal harmonization from the studio recordings come to life in a concert setting. While some of the acoustic charm was naturally lost in this process of translation, Holter’s band added a new, entertaining twist to Holter’s songs. This adaptation was most easily notable in live performances of songs like “Horns Surrounding Me” and “Sea Calls Me Home.” The studio version of “Horns Surrounding Me” can be easily described as claustrophobic and agonizing, but the live version of the song was successfully transformed into a low-key dance gem. Similarly, the soothing feel of “Sea Calls Me Home” was amplified in the live setting when Holter and the band captivated the audience with blissful harmonizing and whistling.

Holter is taking a short break from touring until May 27, when she will perform at Gorge Amphitheatre in George, WA, followed by shows in Belgium, Canada, Oregon, and Sweden. If you get a chance to see her and the band perform live, be sure not to miss them — you will be transported to a world of sublime surrealism that only Julia Holter is capable of constructing.

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.”

In memoriam: Remembering David Bowie

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Jan 21, 2016).

David Bowie, a legendary music and fashion icon, passed away on Jan. 10 after an 18-month battle with liver cancer. Following his death, numerous artists and public figures paid their respects to the singer via social media by thanking him for being a source of inspiration throughout their lives.

Last week, the entrance to the MIT’s Infinite Corridor was embellished with a banner that paid homage to Bowie through his verse from “Space Oddity,” while Lobby 7 greeted the MIT community with imagery of his eccentric outfits. Surely, every Bowie fan can cite a multitude of reasons why this icon should be remembered and appreciated, but I can understand why someone who did not follow his career might ask a simple question — why should we care about David Bowie?

There are the obvious reasons. He was one of the defining figures of the glam rock era, with his alter-ego Ziggy Stardust becoming almost equally important as Bowie himself. His love for theater allowed him to develop convincing characters and stories, which served as solid foundations for flamboyant and unforgettable shows.

He continuously experimented with music and created albums that — even when they did not receive widespread recognition — were ahead of their time. His outfits, just as outlandish, have become an artistic legacy of incontrovertible importance. He gracefully and successfully re-entered the music scene after a decade-long hiatus and managed to release two critically acclaimed albums before his death.

Besides his contribution to the world of art and entertainment, he was highly valued by other people, not only as a musician but also as a friend. In a recent interview for The New York Times, Iggy Pop described Bowie as “more of a benefactor than a friend” and that he “went a bit out of his way to bestow some good karma on [Iggy Pop].” Tony Visconti, Bowie’s producer, said that he was an “extraordinary man, full of love and life” in his Facebook post following Bowie’s death.

But, in order to completely grasp why he was an important global figure, perhaps we should try to understand what he meant to those who never had the opportunity to meet him in person: children, teenagers, young adults, parents, grandparents, and dedicated music fans across the world.

I was first introduced to Bowie’s music as a 14-year-old, when a friend of mine directed me to his songs “Ashes to Ashes” and “China Girl.” It would be a stretch to say that I’ve been a devout fan of his music ever since. While his most prominent albums have become essential components of my music collection, I can’t say that I know the majority of his songs by heart or that I have appreciated the entirety of his work.

However, since that day, I have committedly watched many of his interviews and studied his life and career, because there was something inexplicably touching about his character that made me want to learn more about this unique artist. It wasn’t until 2014 that I finally understood what made Bowie so special to me.

Two years ago, when I visited the exhibition “David Bowie,” the first retrospective collection of his work, in Berlin’s Martin-Gropious-Bau, I realized for the first time that David Bowie was more than just an icon in the history of music, fashion, and entertainment.

Looking through the displays of his handwritten lyrics, original costumes, music videos, interviews, and album artwork, I sensed that his two opposing traits, grandiose eccentricity and subdued vulnerability, were, paradoxically, closely related. Whereas his style and demeanor at times made him seem otherworldly and almost inaccessible, his unapologetically honest character, showcased through his evolving work and emotional expressiveness, helped me see that he was just another human being, but who was — unlike many of us — not afraid to express himself and defy society’s oppressive stereotypes. In his own special way, David Bowie was the world’s favorite outcast.

So, why should we care?

We should care because he undoubtedly changed the music industry and inspired other musicians, but also because he achieved so much more. He inspired actors. He inspired designers. He served as a role model (or anti-role model, for that matter) to children, teenagers, rebels, music fans, and adults who wanted to immortalize their youth. He wore outlandish outfits that remain avant-garde even today. He played with the notion of ambiguous sexuality when the world was struggling to accept the idea of alternative sexual identity. He challenged the world by fighting the old-fashioned concepts of polarized masculinity and femininity. In other words, most importantly, he showed that there is value in being a misfit.

Rest in peace, David Bowie. The world will never forget what a bright and shining star you were.

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.”

Róisín Murphy’s Hairless Toys

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Jul 9, 2015).

When her longtime romantic relationship and music collaboration with Mark Brydon — the other half of the now-defunct electronic music duo Moloko — ended, Róisín Murphy swiftly launched her solo career with the 2005 album Ruby Blue. A peculiar and refreshing record, filled with unusual combinations of brass instruments, dance rhythms, and sounds taken from everyday life, Ruby Blue garnered very positive reviews from the critics and showed that the Irish singer and producer was not going to be overshadowed by her history with Moloko.

Her distinct niche within the music industry became even more prominent with the release of her 2007 album Overpowered, Murphy’s most accessible and radio-friendly product at the time. The covers on the album’s singles featured Murphy wearing outlandish and remarkably fashionable costumes in mundane situations: eating in a pub, standing at a street crossing, and walking through a park.

Singles such as “Let Me Know” and “You Know Me Better” made the UK Singles Chart, yet somehow the album was still considered an alternative form of dance music: her work never became mainstream. Despite the more notable commercial success of Overpowered, Murphy didn’t seize the opportunity to break into the mainstream side of the music industry; instead, she took an eight-year-long break from releasing full-length studio albums.

She remained active by releasing her own standalone singles and working with other musicians and producers, such as David Morales, Mason, and Freeform Five. Last year, she released Mi Senti, a short EP featuring covers of classic Italian pop songs, but it wasn’t until this year that she finally returned with her long-awaited, third full-length solo album Hairless Toys.

Released almost a decade after her sophomore studio album, Hairless Toys vividly mirrors the changes in Murphy’s personal and professional life during the previous eight years. Motherhood, numerous collaborations with other producers, and increased creative control of her work bring a notable sense of maturity and complexity to her new album. Whereas Overpowered gave rise to many upbeat and club-oriented singles, Hairless Toys veers off in a darker and more mysterious direction. Not a single song on the album instantly beckons to the dance floor, but Murphy doubtless succeeds at maintaining a lively atmosphere on this downtempo record.

“Gone Fishing,” inspired by the documentary Paris Is Burning, serves as a perfect opening song and a bridge between Mi Senti and Hairless Toys. Reminiscent of the rhythms and instrumentation in her covers of “Ancora Tu” and “La Gatta” on Mi Senti, “Gone Fishing” sets the contemplative tone of Murphy’s quiet and subdued dance beats.

“Exploitation” and “House of Glass” infuse Hairless Toys with hypnotic trip hop, while “Exile” and “Hairless Toys (Gotta Hurt)” instill a lulling sense of serenity during the second half of the album. “Uninvited Guest,” a Moloko-esque track, gives the album a well-needed sense of playfulness, and the closing downtempo song “Unputdownable” unexpectedly transforms into an upbeat indie-pop track toward the end, successfully offsetting the album’s dominating sense of slowness.

As was the case with Ruby Blue and Overpowered, Murphy avoids the flavors of mainstream pop and electronica on this record. In 2007, when she decided not to use “Off & On,” one of the singles produced by Scottish producer and DJ Calvin Harris for Overpowered, Harris called Murphy “a bit mental” in an interview for Popjustice. The single, which was one of Murphy’s most pop-influenced songs, never appeared on the album and was instead passed on to the English pop singer Sophie Ellis-Bextor. While Murphy’s tendency to avoid using charts-friendly tracks might seem pretentious, it is exactly this way of thinking that makes her music raw, refreshing, and long-lasting.

For instance, “Evil Eyes,” the best track on Hairless Toys, is a groovy and funky six-minute-long song that showcases a combination of Murphy’s laidback singing and narrative storytelling. Only briefly does it burst into a thirty-second-long catchy chorus, which is the closest the album ever comes to mainstream. Just as the chorus ends, Murphy returns to a narrative form of singing, leaving the listener with an urge to put the track on repeat in an attempt to understand the quirky, non-repetitive structure of the song.

Another successful aspect of the album is Murphy’s effortless integration of her influences into the essence of the new musical direction. The legacy of Murphy’s longtime idol, Grace Jones, is palpable on Hairless Toys; the narrative form of singing, whispered lyrics, and Murphy’s chic and theatrical outfits in the music videos will certainly remind fans of the years when Jones awed the audiences with Nightclubbing.

The strange — almost cartoonish — sounds of the album carry a strong resemblance to the unique and unconventional melodies present on Moloko’s early albums, giving listeners a sense of Murphy’s indispensable contribution to the duo and her progress since the breakup. Many songs bring a fleeting sense of glory and complacency through their subtle lyrics and fragile sounds, just like Paris Is Burning showed the ephemeral but captivating sense of power and security created in the world of ball culture as a response to a hostile and discriminatory reality.

In a press release featured on the website of Murphy’s label Play It Again Sam, Murphy stated: “The making of one’s own world, a safer world and the creation of a new, better family in music or youth culture is a theme I touch upon elsewhere on my album Hairless Toys.” Indeed, the album will not take you out to the club dance floors, but it will satisfy your escapism through sublime, fanciful, and alternative dance music — a treat for Róisín Murphy’s longtime fans and a challenging but nonetheless rewarding gift for those who have never listened to her albums.

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.”


Cover photo courtesy of Farrow Design. Follow them on Instagram as well.

The art of smile: amiability as performance

🕒 This essay is more than 10 years old (Published Apr 8, 2015).

Every day, each of us gives a live performance. That might seem like a presumptuous statement but I would argue that our everyday activities are indeed a form of  subconscious performance art. This seemingly paradoxical concept can be demystified if we discuss such activities in terms of restored behavior.

According to Richard Schechner, a renowned performance theorist, restored behavior is any set of “marked, framed, or heightened” habits, rituals, and routines of life. In other words, restored behavior signifies those actions—from simple gestures to ritual performances—that have become a part of our lives, but have become independent of the source that brought them to existence.

What would be an example of that? In my life, and I think in the lives of many others, the act of smiling in day-to-day activities and encounters can be seen as an example of restored behavior. And that’s because, when we smile, we certainly can convey sincere and visceral feelings to others, but we also might smile to convey something that’s more calculated. What’s the difference?

As human beings, provided that we are not discussing cases of complete isolation, we are in constant communication with other people during our daily activities, habits, and rituals. Whether it’s simply the short-term process of making eye contact with a stranger on the street or sharing our intimate emotions with close friends or significant others, we regularly exchange both verbal and non-verbal means of communication.

It’s easy to assume that most of our physical reactions during communication are sincere and visceral, but the truth is that many of our gestures and expressions are programmed and dictated by external factors, such as cultural rules and societal pressure. Many, if not all, of these actions are restored behaviors—they exist as indispensable components of our personalities, yet they are completely detached from the inherent physical causes that would normally bring them to existence.

As Schechner describes in his essay on restoration of behavior, “even if I feel myself wholly to be myself, acting independently, only a little investigating reveals that the units of behavior that comprise me were not invented by me.” This does not mean that we are controlled or brainwashed by the society or other external factors; it simply means that we have subconsciously transformed our inherent gestures and reactions to channels of communication that convey our attitudes and establish our presence. Because of this, many of our everyday activities—such as smiling—can be understood as a restored behavior, and therefore as performance.

Smiling is a facial expression that is an innate feature of all human beings. While the associations linked to the act of smiling vary culturally, in most cultures, smiling is perceived as a physical reaction that signifies joy and happiness or a physical expression that shows person’s amiability and demeanor.

In many cases, it is a result of state of content and happiness, which can be caused by various factors, such as a humorous movie, positive memories, dancing, and attraction to another person. However, the act of smiling can also be employed in situations that are not necessarily associated with content and happiness.

For example, in Western cultures, people often smile when shaking hands or posing for a photograph. Politicians and public speakers are commonly seen smiling during speeches and presentations even though these events are often anxiety-inducing and not something that would naturally make a person smile. In the latter case, it can be tempting to think that the act of smiling is fake, but instead, it should be identified as restored behavior, which is a crucial component of person’s everyday subconscious performance.

In my own life, smiling has become such an important part of my everyday communication that I often forget when I am sincerely pleased or genuinely happy. If I am buying lunch or shopping for clothes, in most cases I will smile to the cashier or the person in the store as they are likely to greet me with a smile as well. If I have to communicate with workers in government offices, such as the Social Security Office, I always talk with a smile on my face.

Why? I most certainly am not happy or pleased when I am filing documents for a new ID card or when I am in a hurry to grab lunch and run back to class. Still, I—and many other people—approach these situations with a smile because it is established that “a smile can open many doors.”

What this truly means is that by employing a restored behavior and showcasing a unique, subtle type of performance, we are exercising amiability as means of facilitating communication, easing the tension, and ultimately—getting what we want.

For the beforehand mentioned cases, I am never particularly pleased or happy, but I always revert to the act of smiling because this framed and heightened behavior helps me reach the outcome of my desires.

In the case of buying lunch and clothes, smiling lets the other person know that I am an amiable person and that I am hoping for a good and helpful service. When I am smiling to the workers in government offices, I am hoping that my amiable demeanor will facilitate any required processes in these institutions and help me in case there is something wrong with my documentation. I am smiling not because I am content or happy, but because this restored behavior serves to showcase a delicate performance that conveys my attitude and personality traits to a person engaged with me in a two-way communication.

These examples support Schechner’s view of restored behavior: smiling in these situations has become completely independent of the original, physical source—happiness and sense of content—that would normally make a person smile. Instead, for the purpose of conveying a message and attaining a specific goal, smiling has become a framed and heightened behavior, employed in those situations that are not associated with the physical feeling of joy.

Interestingly, in his essay, Schechner notes that restored behaviors vary enormously from culture to culture, but he doesn’t elaborate on this statement. It’s nonetheless important to address this phenomenon because restored behaviors are in many cases dictated by cultural norms and societal conventions, so it is natural to pose question about the validity of restored behavior across different cultures. To be precise, while smiling and amiability can be seen as one type of performance in my own life—because I have always lived in similar cultural environments—one might think that this performance would not be valid or sustainable in other cultures.

For example, in some Asian countries, smiling is used to conceal embarrassment or emotional pain or to represent confusion and anger. In some Eastern European cultures, smiling at strangers can be perceived as odd, suspicious, or even frightening. In these cases, is smiling still a restored behavior and does it constitute a performance act?

Even though the act of smiling is associated with different interpretations in these particular cultures, it is still a restored behavior because it is independent of the inherent source that brings it to existence.

Members of specific Asian cultures will smile to detract attention from their actual feelings, so smiling is yet again used in instances where it wouldn’t be happening naturally. The example of Eastern European cultures might be trickier to understand, but the existence of restored behavior still applies. Here, we can view the lack of smiling as a restored behavior; that is, even if the sight of stranger on the street might evoke sincere physical feelings of happiness and joy, a person will purposefully avoid smiling to adapt to specific cultural norms.

Of course, these opinions and statements can be seen as unsupported because the distinction between genuine act of smiling and smiling as restored behavior can be subjective and unclear. Just because I’m using the act of smiling as a way of adapting to a specific culture, how can I know that every other person is following the same mindset when smiling? What if someone has a genuinely joyful demeanor and their amiable interactions with other people are not shaped by cultural traditions?

This is once again a question that Schechner answers concisely in his essay by denoting that restored behavior is sometimes esoteric, privy only to the initiated. This statement can be interpreted from different perspectives, and one of them implies that restored behavior is not temporally universal.

The act of smiling can be sincere and brought to existence by natural, physical feeling of happiness, but it can also be used as a restored behavior, one which has become completely independent of its natural source. People will adopt this restored behavior as necessary; when the act of smiling is used to explore or adjust to a specific context, then the behavior can be understood as restored.

In my own life, I also smile when I genuinely feel joyful. In this case, the act of smiling is not a restored behavior because it was brought naturally to existence, and then the actual physical process is understood as an innate, involuntary, muscle-flexing reaction to a state of happiness. On the other hand, when I am smiling to convey my amiable attitude or establish my courtesy to another person, the act of smiling becomes a restored behavior.

In that sense, for any person, the genuine process of smiling and the act of smiling as a restored behavior can be temporally distinguished from each other. Smiling is a genuine behavior when it’s an involuntary physical reaction, but it’s a restored behavior when it is a voluntary or subconscious way of conveying a symbolic message to a person or a group of people.

With that clear framework in mind, the seemingly presumptuous statement that we all perform becomes acceptable. Each and every one of us performs in front of various audiences, from family and friends to acquaintances and strangers, and we engage in this performance act to use a framed and heightened behavior as a way of conveying a specific, symbolic message.

It can certainly sound a bit sinister to think our lives and gestures are “taken over,” as Schechner describes it, but if we just for a moment let go of the notion that everything we do is conscious, the truth becomes obvious. The act of smiling and many other everyday behaviors are indeed restored behaviors, and consequently are also continuous performance acts.

Cover photo is of Naomi Campbell, Christy Turlington, and Linda Evangelista, courtesy of Roxanne Lowit.

Let’s talk about gender with The Knife

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published May 2, 2014).

How would you feel if you went to a concert where a performer dressed as an aerobics instructor with tights, a wig, and glittery shorts asked you to repeat, “I am not a woman, I am not a man, I am both, I am neither, if you don’t like it, take a breather?”

This is how The Knife opened their show this Monday, when their “Shaking the Habitual” tour arrived to Boston’s House of Blues. The Swedish sibling duo, known for their political and ideological music, brought an ensemble of dancers and performers for their new show, which received polarized reviews from both the fans and the critics.

The range of opinions was notable from the beginning of the show, when the costumed instructor asked the audience to let go of their self-consciousness, hold the hands of those standing next to them, and yell, “Participation, across every nation.” It became obvious that the show was not going to be everyone’s cup of tea.

Karin Dreijer Andersson and Olof Dreijer released their latest album Shaking the Habitual last year after seven years of unexplained hiatus. Whereas their previous albums showcased intellectual but accessible music, the new album was a challenging collection of tracks that directly addressed political and philosophical topics through unconventional instrumentation and occasionally cacophonous, exhausting music.

The post-hiatus transformation is visible in their new show as well. Unlike the previous tours, where the focus of the show was on live performance and the duo’s masked physical appearances, the new tour does not emphasize live instrumentation nor the duo’s stage personalities.

Instead, Andersson and Dreijer share the stage with a dozen of dancers and performers, their faces are revealed, and almost half of the concert is a choreographed, eccentric show with playback music. To new listeners, The Knife would seem like an ensemble of performers rather than a musical duo.

Sounds like a waste of money, right? You can easily stay home and watch the concert on YouTube if they are not going to play a full live set. But that’s the essence of “shaking the habitual” — breaking the stereotypical concept of a good and entertaining concert.

You might be accustomed to seeing a local band open for one of your favorite artists, but The Knife challenged preconceptions by bringing a drag queen to the show who asked audience members to acknowledge others around them for what they are and to participate in the performance, because they should, as the performer described it, “move to be moved.”

Indeed, most of the concert was an unconventional set of colorful light show, tribal dance moves, distorted singing, sparkly makeup, and jovial choreography. Even though many songs were not performed live, the accompanying choreographies were well-executed and truly captivating. “Full of Fire” featured a dark light set and freestyle dance moves, while “One Hit” showcased a rhythmic pop-based choreography full of kissing and juvenile steps that resembled the hokey pokey.

It might be hard to understand how these satirical and amateur choreographies were complementary to lyrics such as “For a reasonable salary, I would wash the world, it wouldn’t affect my libido or self-esteem,” or “Let’s talk about gender, baby, let’s talk about you and me.” But, The Knife gave a clear and compelling reason why these ideas were transmitted through a theatrical show and not through a regular concert — because it’s easier to convey difficult concepts to people through choreography and dance music than through other forms of art.

The new show was not devoid of The Knife’s usual themes and messages. While the political connotations were only noticeable if one paid special attention to the lyrics and the interludes, the gender-based topics could be clearly seen in the choreography and the visuals. All the male performers, including Olof Dreijer, wore glistening makeup and the same body suits as the female performers. Almost all the choreography defied the concept of “masculine” or “feminine” movements.

For example, during few songs, both the male and the female dancers engaged in very aggressive, tribal dance movements, after which they all switched to graceful and sophisticated rhythmic body gestures. There was a moment in the show where two couples performed the cha-cha-cha, presenting the basic steps such as “Chassé,” “New York,” and “Spot Turns”. It was clear that The Knife found an opportunity to introduce the concept of gender fluidity through ballroom dancing, because the performers were dancing with others of the same gender.

It is very easy not to like this show. Despite the entertaining choreographies and few standout live tracks such as “Pass This On” and “We Share Our Mothers’ Health,” some aspects of the concert were not so successful. The distorted vocals were very distracting at times, and some of the slower songs, like “Wrap Your Arms Around Me”, unnecessarily mellowed down the upbeat character of the show.

Furthermore, this was not an accessible concert. Compared to the studio versions from Shaking the Habitual, the live renditions of the songs were easier to understand and internalize, but the show still contained many challenging topics and ideas that were hard to process in only ninety minutes.

Nevertheless, “Shaking the Habitual” tour is a fun, unique, and memorable show that’s different from anything you have ever seen before. It will force you to participate, offer you the chance to appreciate discordant and unconventional music, and — most importantly — encourage you to become someone who is willing to shake the habitual.

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.” Cover photo courtesy of Terri Loewenthal.

St. Vincent’s accessible theatricality

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Mar 4, 2014).

“You guys,” St. Vincent announced in front of the crowded House of Blues, “there was a ghost in the machine.” It was hard to tell why Annie Clark, also known as St. Vincent, referenced Gilbert Ryle’s famous phrase as she vivaciously raised her hands and smiled to the Boston audience. Nevertheless, it was clear to everyone that her short speech was a planned and well-rehearsed act. A theatrical concert might sound pretentious when it comes to rock-oriented music, but the theatrics and choreography presented during St. Vincent’s show in Boston were far from ostentatious. While her new tour “Digital Witness Tour” is certainly flamboyant, there is a distinct dose of accessible drama in her show that had the Boston audience eagerly anticipating her arrival last Thursday at the House of Blues.

Before Clark appeared on stage, Holly Herndon opened the concert with a forty-minute set of experimental electronic and glitch-techno music. A somewhat unusual opener, Herndon quickly grabbed everyone’s attention by manipulating her eerie vocals to fit a seemingly cacophonous combination of beats, screams, and sighs.

It was a challenging and demanding musical delivery, but it was obvious that Herndon knew what she was doing — she played with the spatial distribution of her music by playing specific sounds through different speakers, and she aptly used the change of lighting to complement the transitions in her music.

Unlike St. Vincent, Herndon did not showcase discreet liveliness in her sound, which is why she seemed like an illogical choice for an opener. But when Clark’s arrival on stage was announced by an unknown extraterrestrial-esque voice, it became obvious that Herndon’s highly experimental tone was chosen to prepare the audience for the upcoming theatricality.

Clark’s entrance was nothing less than spectacular. She walked in like an animated robot and performed a short choreography before opening the show with “Rattlesnake.” Most of the show was choreographed, and there were barely any moments of leisurely movement. Her accompanying musician Toko Yasuda would often join her to perform the intriguing dance routines created by Big Dance Theater’s Annie-B Parson.

The movements were not complicated, but they enhanced the show’s visuals and were the most prominent elements of Clark’s theatricality. Of course, it was Clark’s musical delivery that comprised the core of this memorable experience. She performed almost of all the songs from her new album “St. Vincent” with gusto, and even the more mellow tracks like “I Prefer Your Love” and “Prince Johnny” sounded rich and vibrant. When she switched back to her old albums and performed songs like “Cheerleader” and “Surgeon,” most of the audience sang in silence as a sign of respect, because no one wanted to ruin such fine performance with their own voices.

All aspects of her show worked successfully and harmoniously. Clark and her musicians were dressed in simple but elegant colors that allowed the multicolored lights to project differently on their bodies and create interplay of light and shadow. The stage was uncluttered, containing only a set of lights and a large staircase-like box that Clark climbed during some of her songs.

In the middle of the show, there was a short period of triumphant unity of these elements when Clark climbed the box, lay down on the top level as the colored lights dimmed, and started slowly rolling down under the flashing strobe lights. Her bright dress and white-dyed hair became illuminated as she spread her body, and the entire stage started to look like a surreal purgatory.

Throughout the entire concert, Clark adhered to this theatrical display and kept distance from the audience. She showed very few spontaneous movements, she rarely changed her serious facial expression, and she didn’t address any comments from the crowd. Sometimes it even seemed as if she was getting bored of her routine choreography and staged monologues.

But at the end of the show, when Clark bowed to the audience, a sincere and heartfelt smile lit her pale face, signaling to her fans that the show was just as refreshing and entertaining for her as it was for them.

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.”


Cover photo courtesy of Getty Images, through Michael Loccisano. Follow him on Instagram.

Interview with Planningtorock

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Feb 4, 2014).

For some artists, moving to another location can be an insignificant part of their life, but for the English-born musician Jam Rostron, this decision was more than just switching their address.

Rostron, more commonly known by their stage name PLANNINGTOROCK, is a Germany-based musician and producer who moved from UK’s Bolton to Berlin at a young age and rediscovered themselves. As an established persona in the alternative and underground scene, Rostron has been delivering some of the most unique and unusual music for the past few years. Last month, we took the opportunity to chat with them about their upcoming album All Love’s Legal, their musical roots, and the direction of their career.

Unlike many of the electronic producers today, Rostron brings in a flavor of classical music, which stems from their musical training when they were young. Their songs and albums often cross genres, ranging from dance and pop to glam-rock and orchestral. “My first interest in music was more classical. I studied and learned violin, flute and a bit of clarinet. I didn’t really have that much interest or access to popular music in the beginning”, says Rostron. This changed when they enrolled in an art school. “I started to form friendships and discover music through them that just completely blew my mind. I discovered other ways of making music.”

Rostron’s new friendships became a crucial aspect of their life. At the suggestion of a friend, Rostron visited Berlin to work on a project, and the trip changed their relationship with music. “I fell in love with Berlin, I rapidly made friendships, and I knew I had to be there. It was the first time I lived outside of England, and I felt like a foreigner, and this was revolutionary — it really liberated me.” They add, “I was put away from any ideas of myself, or my past or who I was culturally, and it really gave me a lot of space to take my music seriously and make it into something.”

The big decision resulted in their debut album Have It All, which was released in 2006. An audacious mixture of string-driven songs, personal lyrics and otherworldly compositions, Have It All was an underground mastery. Many of the songs, such as “Local Foreigner,” “Bolton Wanderer,” and “Never Going Back” defined this album both as a musical and thematic masterpiece.

Five years later, Rostron returned with their sophomore album W that brought different kind of music and stage personality. Armed with androgynous face masks and songs full of vocal distortions, Rostron started playing with the idea of gender, which was reflected in their new songs. But the gender-ambiguous vocals were a prelude to something more important – something that defined PLANNINGTOROCK not just as a story-driven musical act, but as a musical act with a message.

“With the last record W, I took a certain approach with dealing with certain issues that didn’t work with me personally. And, it’s because I wasn’t really that direct about them — I was more ambiguous or more poetic about them. After that record, I had to really sit down and rethink my whole way of approaching lyrics and topics, and what I really wanted to achieve with music. There’s so much great music out there, and I really had to think — what is making music to me?” They said, “In the beginning, I set myself a task of writing a song that deals with these topics and is more direct. And then I wrote ‘Patriarchy Over & Out’ [in 2012], and that was really the catalyst for All Love’s Legal.”

Besides “Patriarchy Over & Out”, the new album includes songs that have already been circulating the web, such as “Misogyny Drop Dead”, “Human Drama” and “Let’s Talk About Gender Baby”. Unlike W, All Love’s Legal is going to be a pure dance record. “It was a very clear decision that I’ve made”, says Rostron about this “I started DJing a lot since W, and I really got to know through DJing the interesting power of dance music, the way it makes you feel and how you receive information when you are dancing. [The new record] may be heavy because the topics are heavy and challenging. They are heavy words for some people, but if you coat that into dance music with fun sonic — I just thought that it would be a perfect mixture.”

Just as the personality of the new album differs from Have It All and W, so does the creation process. “For W, I was very interested in percussion, creating rhythm and sounds through acoustic recordings. With this record, it was very different – I was very excited, I wanted every part of the record to be political. So it’s a self-finance record, which meant that the economic side was quite limited. But I quite liked that feeling of working on a track and not getting too precious about it.”

It should come as no surprise that Rostron is releasing this album on their own label “Human Level Recordings,” and that they want to leave a message by working with women instead of men. They agree that the music industry and the media often try to turn women against each other, which is rarely the case with men. “The media is poison”, they add “It’s very hard for people, including myself, to separate that and remember that it isn’t reality, but a construct that bombards you, and it’s propaganda that you have to protect yourself from.”

Though Rostron might lack the publicity of a large record label, they appreciate their close-knit team much more. “It’s really satisfying to have control of everything. I’m really happy to do something that’s smaller, but that’s very clear where it’s coming from and what it’s about.”

And while PLANNINGTOROCK is a musical act with strong messages behind it, Rostron does not provide instantaneous solutions to these issues. “This is not a concrete record – these are questions as much as they are messages. So, for me, making music actually has to serve a purpose – that defines what the outcome is.”

Fans of PLANNINGTOROCK can be assured that Rostron plans to continue mixing audio shows with powerful visual elements. “I love video so much! My favorite language is when music and imagery come together. I find it a very inspiring vehicle.” They add laughingly, “We did a small test show in Brighton UK, and it was so much fun and people got on the stage at the end of the show!”

All Love’s Legal is out next week on February 10. Just as with any PLANNINGTOROCK record, the new album is not for the faint-hearted. But if you are a fan of good old dance music and appreciate being challenged by ideas, PLANNINGTOROCK might be just what you need to spark the beginning of 2014.

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.” Cover photo courtesy of Goodyn Green.


02/19/2023 update: The article was updated to use ‘they/them/their’ pronouns to reflect Planningtorock’s preferred gender identity.

15 minutes of top-notch pop

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Dec 6, 2013).

Karen Marie Ørsted, also known simply as Mø, might not be the most familiar name in the music industry yet, but the 25-year old Dane is far from operating in the corners of obscure and alternative scenes. Just within one year, she has released several singles, contributed her vocals to Avicii’s song “Dear Boy” and delivered her debut EP Bikini Daze. Like many of her contemporary Scandinavian singer-songwriters, she seems to be faithfully following their long-lasting tradition by doing what Scandinavia is famous for — making fantastic pop music.

Catchy and dense pop music can often be overwhelming when presented in the form of full-length album, but this is not the case with Bikini Daze. Lasting for only fifteen minutes, Mø’s new EP brings four well-produced songs that give enough space to the listener to fully experience the quality of the tracks without feeling drained by the commonly-used filler songs. Each of the four songs has its own specific flavor, and the strategic order of the songs makes the EP flow smoothly from opening dance beats to closing ballad tunes.

The first track “XXX 88,” a collaborative dance gem with Diplo, opens the EP with liquid synths as Mø sings in crystal-clear pitch: “Oh no, buddy don’t you cry as they go / Life changes all of us, it’s not your fault, no no no.” The backing vocals lead into the majestic brass-heavy and rhythmical chorus while Mø invites the listener to run with her “where the sky is blue forever.”

The dance-centered tone settles down with the second track “Never Wanna Know,” whose harmonic melodies, mesmerizing vocals, and bell tunes bring a reminiscent sound of holiday-inspired tracks. “Dark Night” restores the catchy and upbeat atmosphere with even sharper and more striking instrumental delivery, after which the album closes with the vocally-rich ballad “Freedom (#1).” Within only 15 minutes, Bikini Daze compactly describes the essence of Mø’s style and beckons you to go for another round.

With so many Scandinavians producing high-quality music, it’s hard to believe that there is something that would make another Scandinavian female singer unique. There are certainly observable similarities between Mø and her fellow contemporaries — the vocals resemble those of Oh Land and Quadron, while the brass choruses surely remind of The Asteroids Galaxy Tour. Nonetheless, Mø maintains her own signature sound and her music will definitely not leave you with a sense of “already heard.” With such a promising debut entrance, there is no reason not to look forward to Mø’s first full-length album.

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.”

Janelle Monáe’s concert: electrifying and astonishing

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Oct 25, 2013).

Upon entering Boston’s House of Blues on October 16th, the attendees were given a short pamphlet entitled “The Ten Droid Commandments”. Besides instructing the audience on how to get the most out of Janelle Monáe’s conceptual concert, the pamphlet also contained Monáe’s special request for the audience — to never reveal the show’s secrets to their friends.

Before the Electric Lady appeared on the stage to actually share the mysterious secrets, Roman GianArthur (one of the key figures in the production and arrangement of Monáe’s albums) opened the show with a stellar musical and vocal performance. In addition to performing some of his own songs, he also delivered several fantastic covers, including MGMT’s “Electric Feel” and Erykah Badu’s “Bag Lady”. Similarly to Monáe, his continuous communication with the audience and the ability to instill the “jam” factor into each of his songs made his appearance nothing less than mesmerizing.

Following GianArthur’s performance, Monáe entered the stage in the most appropriate and unique way possible – dressed in white and black, and in a state of deep sleep, carried onto the stage by one of her messengers while the theatrical “Suite IV Electric Overture” was playing in the background.

When the overture reached the climactic crescendo, Monáe opened her eyes, guitar riffs stepped in, and the show officially started with “Givin ‘Em What They Love”. There was no need for Monáe to slowly and carefully build the communication with the audience — hands were already up in the air and everybody was dancing as Monáe sang “I ain’t never been afraid to die / Look a man in the eye / I come to give you what you love”.

Photo of Janelle Monáe and her band performing at The House of Blues in Boston, Massachusetts on October 16, 2013.

Even though the majority of the songs were from Monáe’s newest album The Electric Lady, the fans of her android tales were treated with an energetic performance of older singles as well. “Sincerely Jane” brought the audience back to the beginnings of android Cindi Mayweather’s story when Monáe released her first EP, while “Tightrope” and “Cold War” renewed the funky tunes that catapulted her to widespread recognition with her debut full-length album The Archandroid.

The newest songs were delivered with equally brilliant performances — the rapping sequences in “Q.U.E.E.N”, “Electric Lady” and “Ghetto Woman” were met with long-lasting applause, and the slower jams and ballads like “Primetime” and “Victory” echoed through House of Blues as the audience sang quietly, allowing Monáe’s strong voice to bring everyone into the embrace of her music.

What also made Monáe’s concert so fulfilling was the completeness of the musical arrangements that were made possible by her excellent band. From the guitarist and the drummer to the keyboard player and back-up vocalists, everyone put their soul into the concert and turned the entire experience into a sensory adventure.

The grand finale of the concert slowly took over with Monáe’s well-established, fierce performance of “Come Alive (The War of the Roses)” during the first encore. Lasting for almost fifteen minutes, the song (which can be loosely interpreted as Cindi Mayweather’s decision to break free) took a special twist when Monáe requested the audience to get low while she crouched down and sneaked into the crowd, silently singing the melody of the song. After coming back on stage and joining her band in their deep sleep, there was a very short moment of silence and unrelenting anticipation before there was a sign of Monáe coming back to life.

“Everybody,” she said quietly as the band members started to revive the music “come alive!”

The silent murmur of the audience quickly escalated into an ecstatic combination of screaming, singing and dancing as everyone jumped on their feet and joined Monáe’s electrifying choreography of coming alive and breaking free. The exhilarating performance of the song enveloped House of Blues with a pulsating energy that served as a final touch to the show’s fantastic finale.

A surprise awaited Monáe during the second encore of the show. A representative of Boston’s City Council came on stage and shared the council’s acknowledgment of her “tireless efforts to inspire confidence, self-worth and equality in women all over the world, and her courage in speaking against the marginalization of historically oppressed groups”.

In the name of the City Council, the representative proclaimed Oct. 16, 2013 as “Janelle Monáe Day.” As the audience applauded and shouted words of approval, Monáe sincerely thanked everyone and celebrated the special occasion by performing the only song that was appropriate for the moment — the final track from The Electric Lady, “What An Experience”.

Seeing Janelle Monáe perform live can only be described one way, and even though The Electric Lady explicitly stated that the secrets of the show must remain concealed, if there is one secret shared with Boston that can be revealed and still leave enough space for surprise and thrill it’s this — that a legend is born.

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.”


Cover photo courtesy of Getty Images, via Erika Goldring. Follow her on Instagram as well.

Exploring the unknown spaces of the known

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Oct 4, 2013).


This article won 1st prize Collegiate Gold Circle Award in Entertainment Reviews (Category N14), awarded by Columbia Scholastic Press Association in 2014.


For the Los Angeles-based experimental musician Julia Holter, having creative blocks and receiving only sporadic artistic epiphanies does not seem to be an option. Her debut album Tragedy was released in 2011, immediately accompanied by the sophomore follow-up Ekstasis in 2012 and the third full-length album Loud City Song released this year. Keeping in mind that many critically acclaimed contemporary musicians take more than a few years between releasing their albums, it might be tempting to assume that Holter prefers quantity over quality. Yet, at only twenty-eight years of age, Holter — a musically-trained CalArts alumna — delivers stronger and richer material with each subsequent album.

Her first two albums were recorded solo and were based on distinct concepts. Taking inspiration from literature and timeless stories such as certain Greek tragedies, Holter incorporated layers of her own tales and observations into a successful experimentation of hazy electronic, atmospheric, and soothing music. While some of these attempts, such as the track “Marienbad” from Ekstasis, manage to showcase Holter at the peak of her creativity, her artistic core did not emerge to its full glory until her newest album Loud City Song.

This artistic progress did not happen on its own, but was accompanied by some notable changes — the album was recorded with a music ensemble, its core themes were not united by historical stories (although the album was partially inspired by the film “Gigi”), and the electronic sounds were largely replaced by lush and varied instrumentation. Ironically, even with the lack of a central and uniting theme, Loud City Song turns out to be Holter’s most structured work.

Thematically, Holter once again builds the levels of the story by drawing references to her own life, but this time to non-imaginary tales that revolve around seemingly everyday topics, such as intimacy, rights to privacy, anxiety, relationships, and freedom. For an L.A. native, where the everyday motions of regular people go unnoticed, yet there is pressing scrutiny of celebrities, the concepts of solitude and privacy have a particularly relevant meaning.

The album’s two complementary tracks, “Maxim’s I” and “Maxim’s II,” reflect each other musically and both address this topic through their shared opening lines: “Tonight the birds are watching me / Do they have more important things to do?” To add in an extra sense of the agonizing pressure of the showbiz society, Holter opens “Horns Surrounding Me” with the sounds of someone running, breathing heavily and whispering during an escape for freedom, just before the pounding sounds of heavy bass and frantic horns surround Holter’s echoing voice while she shrills the three words of the track’s name.

Musically, Holter maximizes the presence of the music ensemble and unites her characteristic experimental flavor with traditional orchestral instruments. “In the Green Wild” opens with a rhythm-driving pizzicato (while Holter swirls her lyrics with occasional vocal inserts “wah wah!”) and closes with an iterative and haunting celestial tune in the background as she sings in a high-pitch tone: “hah ah hah.”

One of Holter’s most ambitious tracks, a cover of Barbara Lewis’s song “Hello Stranger,” balances the album halfway through by driving the first few musically-dense tracks into a 6-minute long minimalistic ambient experimentation. The 1963 hit single, known as the catchy rhythmical oldie driven by the back-up vocals singing “shoo-bop, shoo-bop, my baby,” becomes a dreamy state of a peaceful purgatory with the sound of seagulls in the background, and Holter’s fainting voice whispering “Hello, stranger / It seems so good to see you back again.” The album’s most upbeat track, the light-jazzy and slow-jam “This Is a True Heart,” colors the album with enough foreign sounds (if you listen very carefully, you’ll notice a subtle and perhaps accidental sound of Balkan folk in the opening horns), but gives that necessary kick of dance rhythm that completes the album’s essence.

Holter’s music is certainly experimental, but it is far from being unsafe and boldly risky. Yet, there is something interesting about the way she explores the spaces of the known — whether it’s doing a cover of a 1963 track or simply recording someone running. She knows how to deliver the unexplored and unknown of these commonplace ideas and fully involve the listener. All of this serves to prove that Holter is an unquestionable avant-garde artist and that her newest album is an excellent piece of work.

And, most importantly, Loud City Song is not the kind of album that can be played just to sing along to two or three tracks on repeat. It requires full attention, dedication and willingness to surrender to the complex and beautifully-layered musical composition. Every track on this album serves a purpose and brings a unique flavor to Holter’s captivating storytelling. If you decide to allow Holter to guide you through a landscape of strings, horns, bass and celestial vocals, you will find yourself internalizing her memories and experiencing a world that you’ve never seen or felt before. At the same time, when the album ends with the lulling “City Appearing,” Holter’s voice will leave you with the most intriguing feeling of déjà vu and you will be pleading to hear more.

Highlight tracks: “Horns Surrounding Me,” “In the Green Wild,” “Maxim’s II,” “This Is a True Heart,” “Hello Stranger.”

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.”

Janelle Monáe’s android-inspired saga continues with The Electric Lady

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Sep 20, 2013).

“Also, I wanna say The Droid Control can kiss the rust of the left and the right cheek of my black metal ass,” says the voice of a female caller during a radio call in Monáe’s interlude “Good Morning Midnight.” The radio station WDRD, led by DJ Crash Crash, receives comments and thoughts from various callers, who discuss their opinions on Monáe’s heroine alter-ego, android Cindi Mayweather.

Monáe’s longtime fans have been following the heartbreaking story of the fugitive android ever since she introduced Cindi’s character on her widely unknown debut album, The Audition. The actual narrative fully formed its flow on her conceptual EP Metropolis: Suite I (The Chase). It told the story of android 57821, otherwise known as Cindi Mayweather, who fell in love with a human named Anthony Greendown.

Ostracized by the droid community, Cindi was labeled top android fugitive and prime target for The Droid Control’s bounty hunters. The tale continued throughout Monáe’s widely-acclaimed and highly eclectic full-length album The ArchAndroid, which ended with a climactic 8-minute orchestral piece “BaBopByeYa”. With the song’s final verses, “my freedom calls and I must go,” and Cindi’s narrative flashbacks of Anthony Greendown, the listeners were left wondering what the next chapter of the forbidden-love saga would entail.

Three years later, Monáe is back with a 19-track sequel entitled The Electric Lady. The new album takes a slight detour from the usual storyline and puts the spotlight on Monáe’s pre-android storyline and R&B-heavy melodies. Most of the android-inspired themes are told throughout the album’s three radio interludes, which do not reveal much about the latest details of Cindi’s destiny. Instead, they focus on the population’s support and rejection of her lifestyle.

The diverse musical styles from The ArchAndroid, ranging from pop and rock to hip-hop and orchestral, exist only in subtle nuances on the new album. Suite IV and V Overtures still bring a reminiscent sound of The Electric Lady’s predecessor, but none of the songs reach the spectacular emotional quality of songs like “BabopbyeYa.” The lack of cohesive storyline, which became Monáe’s trademark, and the more homogenous musical style leave the album bereft of the final touch of Monáe-esque brilliance.

However, brilliance is a relative concept when it comes to Janelle Monáe. A less audacious album in her sphere of artistry is still an inspiring and defining album in the sphere of the wider music industry. The converged and R&B-centered musical style of The Electric Lady sounds indisputably refreshing and novel when Prince joins Monáe in “Givin ‘Em What They Love,” one of the album’s stand-out old-school tracks; or when Monáe and Miguel together tackle the album’s down-tempo and hypnotic love ballad “Primetime.”

The album’s eponymous track, a collaboration between Monáe and Solange Knowles, brings out the old spirit of Janelle Monáe, in a song filled with dance beats, brass instruments and infectiously catchy lyrics. Big-name collaborations do not end there – Esperanza Spalding and Monáe thrive together in the jazzy lounge track “Dorothy Dandridge Eyes,” and Erykah Badu contributes her vocals in “Q.U.E.E.N.” While Monáe brings her traditional fusion of psychedelic nostalgia and funk elements in upbeat songs like “We Were Rock & Roll,” she also delivers a fantastic performance in more mellow, soul-inspired tracks like “Can’t Live Without Your Love” and “Look Into My Eyes.”

The development of the android-inspired saga remains unclear as Monáe wraps her lyrics with a layer of ambiguity and brings in more references to her personal life. However, when she steps in “Ghetto Woman,” rapping “before the tuxedos and black and white every day / I used to watch my momma get down on her knees and pray,” or when she delivers the numbing rap sequence in the last part of “Q.U.E.E.N”, one must admit that Monáe is still as fantastic as ever, even if her efforts are no longer primarily focused on fictional and unusual themes.

Just before the radio conversation in “Good Morning Midnight” ends, the unknown female caller informs DJ Crash Crash that “[they] gonna take to the club tonight and break some rules in honor of Cin-di!” Thrilled and excited, DJ Crash Crash asks the female caller which rules they are going to break.

“We gonna break all of them”, replies the caller.

Monáe’s new album might be thematically less ambitious and musically less inclusive than her previous efforts, but less does not mean worse. The Electric Lady is different, equally inspirational and the best indicator of an undeniable truth – Monáe still knows how to break all the rules.

Highlight tracks: “Givin ‘Em What They Love” ft. Prince, “We Were Rock & Roll”, “What an Experience”, “Can’t Live Without Your Love”, “Electric Lady” ft. Solange, “Ghetto Woman.”

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.”

iamamiwhoami

🕒 This article is more than 10 years old (Published Apr 19, 2013).


This article won 1st prize Collegiate Gold Circle Award in Entertainment Reviews (Category N14), awarded by Columbia Scholastic Press Association in 2013.


If this is the first time you hear the oddly concatenated name iamamiwhoami, then you have missed the fascinating beginnings of an enigmatic viral internet sensation that took over Youtube in 2009.

Founded by the Swedish folk singer-songwriter Jonna Lee, her producer Claes Björklund and the film director Robin Kempe-Bergman, iamamiwhoami is an audiovisual musical project with many charming peculiarities that your regular wannabe-weirdo artists never manage to deliver.

In case you are a tough nut when it comes to newcomers in the music industry, you might be reluctant to believe that there is anything remotely interesting about iamamiwhoami, but you might think differently when you find out that until late 2010, fans across the world had no idea who their new favorite synth- and dream-pop star was.

In other words, iamamiwhoami started as a completely anonymous and puzzling Youtube project that spread out virally and remained incognito for almost an entire year.

It all started when numerically titled videos were uploaded to iamamiwhoami’s Youtube account and emailed to various music journalists. These initial videos were very short and portrayed oddly-decorated forests, eerie synth beats, snowy graveyards, human-tree hybrids and, most importantly, a mysterious woman completely painted in black, with her eyes shining distinctly under overly extended eyelashes.

The pattern continued until a full-length video titled “b” was released in March 2010, which was the first concrete beginning of a mesmerizing tale. What was the tale? Funnily enough, it’s hard to tell. After “b”, new one-letter videos were released in a non-random order: “o”, “u-1”, “u-2”, “n”, “t”, “y”, which eventually spelled out the word “bounty”.

Each video was very unique and had its own story, but they all had some recurring features, which included a black cat, the female protagonist’s loose dance moves, fairy tale forests, ethereal surroundings, half-naked people, and semen.

For instance, in “t”, the female protagonist dances completely naked on a cliff singing about new beginnings, while in “y” she frolics around a foil-covered forest guarded by trees with half-naked people inside them.

The mystery was partially shattered when “t” was released — it became clear that Jonna Lee was involved in the project because her face was unveiled for the first time, and all the media’s speculations of Lady Gaga or Christina Aguilera being involved fell into oblivion. In the summer of 2011, iamamiwhoami released two singles “; john” and “clump”, which were the last two tracks to be included on bounty.

Instead of releasing bounty as their debut LP, they decided to first release a completely different album titled kin, which contains singles unrelated to the bounty storyline and notably less entertaining videos that were released sequentially in 2012. While the album was well-received by the critics, it lacked the substance that bounty will surely showcase when it is released in June.

Of course, iamamiwhoami is not all about otherworldly videos and enchanting storylines — their music is equally captivating. “b” and “u-1” are the only mediocre singles on bounty; the rest of the tracks are superb and entrancing dance songs that prove iamamiwhoami’s creativity not only in the sphere of visual artistry, but in that of acoustics as well. “u-2” sounds like an ecstatic heavy-beat Crystal Castles anthem, “n” is a hypnotizing pop lullaby, and the last one-letter single “y” is an amalgam of nostalgia, mischievousness, disco rhythms and Jonna Lee’s innocent voice that define this single as a covert evergreen.

Musically, bounty easily achieves what many mainstream albums fail to do — it makes dance music intelligible and artistic.

Only time can tell how iamamiwhoami will develop and if it will ever become a timeless piece of culture, but bounty will surely be remembered as an internet treasure that won the hearts of many people across the world. Even though the charm that these singles had when they appeared online will wear off when they are released together as a physical album, they will always remain as riddling dance tunes that define their own dimension of weirdness.

After all, how often do you see a video of a woman lying in veggies telling you to “sharpen your knives and clean plates for some tender?”

Originally published in MIT’s newspaper “The Tech.”