Wynne Greenwood - 'A Fire To Keep You Warm'

WYNNE GREENWOOD
A Fire To Keep You Warm

Self-released, 2012

• favorites:

  "Bed," "You Better," "Big Candy"

• Flavors:

  Magic Mushrooms, Mountain Dew, emeralds, flea dip

RATING:

TRACK LIST:

• Big Candy
• You Better
• Culture Keeper
• A Change Wasn't Leaving
• Modern Instinct
• Our Going On
• Dresser
• New Mouth
• Mirrors
• Bed

Ten years ago, Tracy + the Plastics emerged from Olympia, Washington. The band consisted of the lead singer, Tracy, performing alongside drummer Cola and keyboardist Nikki, with the latter two characters existing only as video projections on a screen. They performed in punk clubs, rock arenas, and art museums around the world, playing a sort of funky kind of electronic punk, anchored by Tracy's soaring vocals. After a handful of EPs and two full-length albums, Wynne Greenwood, the mastermind behind the project, terminated it. Killing your clone is still murder, though, and Tracy + the Plastics were crucial for a generation of isolated teenage geniuses including me. Four years ago, two solo songs credited to Greenwood emerged ("Big Candy" and "Culture Keeper"). Greenwood has been consistently making video and installation art since then, and for her most recent exhibition at the Lawrimore Project's gallery in Seattle, titled Peace In (as opposed to "Peace Out"), the new album has been released. With minimal fanfare, and heard apart from the sculptures in the art show, Greenwood's new solo album is probably the best thing to come out in 2012.

Gone are the fuzzy vintage synth-bass riffs and heavy metal robot drums that defined the Plastics' sound. Singing as Tracy, Greenwood reached operatic heights, alternately screaming and cooing; her sound was the sound of inner drama exploded onto the dance floor. On her solo record, she sings a bit deeper, more certainly, and calmly. The songwriting is as genius as ever. The melodies are like really excellent weed—you almost forget how well it's working. Greenwood is all about making the current audience into a better audience. The songs build in seemingly distinct parts; the drums seem to go one direction, the bass another, and the vocals seem, at first, to be coming from another room. Then, just at the point of exhaustion, everything falls into place, the musical riffs all interlock and you feel like an idiot for not getting it sooner. She's comfortable making you wait, making you put it together. Experimental pop doesn't mean she doesn't know what she's doing, it just means you don't know what to expect. Let her show you.

The songs on the record, like much of her art, give voice to internal states and philosophies. What does a "Bed" mean? How do you sing a song about potential uses of interior space? Greenwood's songs are about such minute details of emotional existence that they become universal. Cascading congas and traffic noise samples populate the songs, Greenwood's multitracked vocals make a chorus of an inner monologue. The interior is blown up to universal proportions, gleefully contrasting the small and the big details of life.

Like Kate Bush or David Bowie or Sparks or Laurie Anderson, Wynne Greenwood is creative to the point of possibly breaking with reality. This record doesn't sound like anything else; it adheres to it's own logic. It imagines a world where these songs exist. Sonically, Greenwood has found and refined a totally original voice. It's sort of dance-y, sort of meditative, sometimes funky, and sometimes detached. It's too weird to be a Top 40 hit, but that's okay. The kids who need this album will find it; if you want it, you can get it. It's finally here.