Review: Twin Shadow - Confess

Preface: Much of current Indie music, and Popular Culture, is an act of self-referentialism, mining the crates and stacks of the past to create a modern product. Simon Reynolds in his 2011 book gives this phenomenon a name, Retromania which also serves as the title of the book. This practice, however, is nothing new to music. In 1963 The Kingsmen released a cover of Richard Barry’s 1955 “Louie Louie”; the song was a #1 hit for the band and arguably started the Garage Rock movement. Garage Rock as a genre is dedicated to a lo-fi recreation of 1950s Rock n’ Roll, Doo-Wop, Soul and Blues. Modern progenitors of the genre, like Jay Reatard, lean a bit more towards early Punk, which itself is an offspring of Garage Rock or Proto-Punk.

Popular culture revisiting the past comes in waves; in the early 00s it was a revitalization of Classic Rock complete with reissues of classic albums, reunion tours and a slew of new artists, like Wolfmother and Kings of Leon, who grew up on the staples of Classic Rock radio: Hard, Arena and Southern Rock. And of course there was the invasion of the The bands, like The White Stripes and The Walkmen, who mined the annals of Rock n’ Roll and Garage Rock. Newer acts, like Girls and Wavves, continue this building backwards, adding Surf Rock to the repertoire; while groups, like Best Coast and Dum Dum Girls, call to mind girl groups of the 50s and 60s.

This discussion brings us to the present landscape of Indie music and its fascination with the 80s supported by acts, like Twin Shadow and Wild Nothing; a decade just 30 years removed, but one that was vastly over mined earlier in the 00s with the popularity of VH1’s I Love the 80’s and 80’s theme parties becoming a mode du jour. The internet of course plays a large role in retromania as it allows people to forgo physical artifacts of the past and easily visit decades gone by digitally through television and cartoon shows, movies and music. This leads to a growing number being without a generation as the sign posts of one are absorbed and appropriated by another. This could lead to a black hole in Popular Culture wherein the gravity of the past pulls at the edges of the current fabric leading to what Reynolds views as a “death knell for any originality”.

Twin Shadow’s sophomore album Confess, much like its predecessor Forget, could unarguably have been released in the 80s, sitting alongside Synthpop forefathers and New Wavers. The bands sole member, George Lewis Jr., displays a genuineness in his presentation and production, gathering equal parts of Gary Numan in a dedication to the simplicity of a pop song and the synthesizer, dance inducing beats via Soft Cell, a deep emotionalism akin to Depeche Mode and at times the tone of his voice and phrasing is reminiscent of Morrissey. The finished product, again much like his debut, is a rich ode to the time period for which Lewis grew up.

 Twin Shadow skirts the idea of a rehash, avoiding the placation with sincerity. Creating a world in which the good old days for Lewis are the 80s, viewing that decade in the way that many viewed television’s Happy Days, a simpler time devoid of modern distractions. Lewis returns to an idyllic youth pulled from a John Hughes film. This sort of honesty and loyalty is what distinguishes Lewis as a musician and purveyor of a genre passed. Many of the songs feel pulled right from the diary and create a close symbiotic relationship with the listener. He is not simply wearing a costume but instead fully indulging the nostalgia of the decade of his youth (Lewis was born sometime in 84 or 83), using his music as a means to saving the past.

Lewis’s self imposed restraints are not limited to the music and production; Lewis maintains a lyrical focus on young love and heart break which is bolstered by his wistful crooning. Though simple in construction, the songs convey the complexity of youthful romance, full of hyperbole and urgency like “Run My Heart” with the lines, “You don’t run my heart / you don’t run my heart, so don’t you dare /  You run my heart my heart / you don’t run my heart, so don’t pretend to care / I’ve been working on making it start / working on make it start again” and later in the song Lewis belts out with a dramatic conviction, “This isn’t love/ This isn’t love, I’m just a boy and you’re just a girl / You want to be the one to believe it / Then be the one to believe it / I’m just a boy and you’re just a girl”.

 While at times, Lewis shows his age with a jaded perspective; on “I Don’t Care”, Lewis’s voice quivers, “Let me know you’re innocent, and tell me about all the things you’ve done / And talk about the parties, and the boys you got undone / I don’t care / I don’t care / Long as you can dance me round the room while you lie to me”. The track is one of Lewis’s most vocally convincing; Lewis switches from a quiver over sparse guitar plucks with a bit of wash, to a more commanding croon over a syrupy deep synth with piano and a drum machine that sounds like it is programmed to hand jive, and then he chants, over all of the previous instrumentation plus a chugging but crystalline guitar line. It is like hearing a rapper who is really in the pocket of a beat, riding so close to the rhythm; the music and the vocals are in such harmony and everything is right with the song. Luckily for listeners, moments like “I Don’t Care” are not few and far between.

The album opens with “Golden Light” and its shimmering synths awash in fuzz. The music fades away, giving over to a thumping bass drum and what sounds like a melodic steel drum. Lewis sings with an echo, “I met you first, I heard your voice on a telephone / and then again city street where you walked alone / and when you come out of the dark I was waiting there”, and on the chorus, “Some people say there’s a golden light, you’re the golden light,” with a quick blip of a children’s chorus singing what sounds like, “A woo A woo”, off the tale of “light”.  Little sonic moments like this are present everywhere on the album, like on “Patient”, at about the middle point of the song it pauses to go into a short drum line solo.

Confess’s first single, “Five Second”, is musically a tad simpler than the rest of the album and is very soundtrack ready. The album is nearly a synthesis of all things 80s; a bouncy synth line over a two beat and while building to the chorus a laser precise guitar cuts right through the track. Nearly every moment of the song is worthy of a group dance montage. The chorus is simple, “Five seconds in your heart/ straight to the heart/ I can’t get to your heart”, followed by a Kyp Malone like shout of “There’s no way to get it all”. The song is a conversation between a boy and girl, and like many of Twin Shadow’s songs, the music bolsters the narrative and creates a thematic image. Writing songs that do not so much tell a story but instead a vignette, a moment in time when all the words of the song were true.

The album closes with “Be Mine Tonight” and a hidden track. The crooned chorus, “Be mine tonight / you’re mine tonight / if you can’t go home”, sits atop an elastic base line, a twinkling synth and a rustling. The song is quite possibly the most optimistic moment on the album. Then after about three minutes of silence comes the hidden track with its chiming keys, slippery synths and handclaps which strip away the optimism and the listener is left with the most confessional track. With the chorus “I’ve tried pleasure I’ve tried pain, it’s always / I’ve tried holding you again, it’s always too much you and me / we can learn to be still but we will always be broken”, stands at complete opposition to the chorus of the former track. As if “Be Mine Tonight” was all a lie. The juxtaposition of the two songs leaves the album open ended: what will happen to our narrator next time? Will he get “Be Mine Tonight” or the hidden track? Stay tuned for the next edition of Twin Shadow…This adds a bit of last minute cinematic flair and anticipation.

If Confess was released in the 80s, it would surely be an album still discussed today. There is a level of confidence that was not present on Forget. Instead of translating that bravado into over compensation; it becomes an artist who has fleshed out an identity. Any one song on the album can encapsulate what Twin Shadow is about. Twin Shadow is an R&B artist informed by 80s Synthpop and New Wave; much in the way that The Weeknd is an R&B artist informed by Hip Hop and 90s slow jams soaked in Promethazine. Though the scope may not be wide; the results are well executed and fully formed.

Though the album is not a far stretch from the imagination at work on Forget ; it does show Lewis as a far more confident performer. This confidence produces what is a very meticulous sounding record without sounding over worked. The lyrical simplicity evens out the complex and lush instrumentation. Lewis’s 80s Retromania strengthens the cinematic field of the work, freezing a moment passed within its own bio dome.

4.5

Twin Shadow - Five Seconds

Also check out Retromania: Pop Culture's Addiction to Its Own Past by Simon Reynolds