I’ve always loved the radical, the rebellious ones who went against modern convention. The people who looked at tradition and felt that it didn’t allow for individual growth and, therefore, fought against it. Those people who just did things the way they wanted, regardless of what the masses would think, because to go against this natural calling would be the equivalent of slavery or death. Some might call artists with this type of mindset as experimental, but is it experimental if it comes natural to the artist? Experimental conveys the idea that said person is just trying out new ideas, testing theories until those theories can be proven wrong or turned into fact. My Own Private Alaska isn’t experimenting with anything. They are simply creating what they feel, as naturally as you or I breathe in . . . and breathe out. At least, that’s the way I hear it. No ulterior motives, no visions of grandeur, just a trio of musicians who look at the world and reflect what that world feels like in an expressive and emotional mixture of sound.
My Own Private Alaska is part screamo, part classical, and all avant garde, as they perform as a trio made up of piano, drums, and vocals. That’s it. Stripped down to the bare bones and purely acoustic. The piano work shifts from these dark, moody passages to amazingly uplifting melodies, while the vocals very rarely drop below a tortured bellow, but when they do mellow out, they convey an image of a guy dealing with some pent up personal turmoil that’s just raging for release. The lead track, “Anchorage,” encompasses all of these elements. Just listen as the vocals start off subdued and slowly build, measure by measure, to finally explode with rage and fury. I find it remarkable that these guys were able to create this much tension in their music with just the vocals, piano, and drums! And based on the emotional performance of the vocals, I’m even more curious about the subject matter. There’s mention of killing and movies in the head and waiting for sleep to come and giving his life to the garbage and the ocean, and fuck! Just sitting back and listening to this guy open up is intense and sends chills up the spine as I try to decipher what’s reality and what sounds like the ranting of a delusional mind. I almost get the visual of this guy sitting in a darkened psychiatrist’s office, repeating the lyrics as dialogue, all while the shrink is sitting there with a burning cigarette pinched between his fingers. Fuckin’ creepy!
“After You” has a bit of a groove to it, the drums making more of a dramatic impression. The piano melody is pretty awesome and I absolutely love how they remove a note from the end of each run. Little things like that add a wrinkle of further interest, and actually something I had missed on previous listens. Midway through the tune, the keys make a dramatic shift and begin to sound all sorts of doom-y and ominous, all the while, the vocals just do their thing . . . building into greater and greater waves of tension before ultimately howling away in their tortured and desperate way. On top of these various musical aspects, My Own Private Alaska uses subtle dynamics by creating some space in between the seemingly never ending flurries of sound. It’s not a fancy technique or some use of studio technical wizardry, but it is highly effective in making the song morph into a large sounding piece of music, and something that occurs in the songwriting rather than in the production. Once again, going back to that “natural” sound of the music . . . if it can’t be done live, then it ain’t natural. My favorite song from the disc is “Broken Army,” mainly because of the highly infectious melody of both the piano and the vocals. On top of that, this one of the more complex arrangements on the album, filled with breaks, mood changes, times changes, volume swells and highly emotive performances. Though, as complex and tripped out as the song is, it’s also one of the more accessible songs from Amen. That doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll hear this song on every radio station, but more attributable to that melody running throughout the track. It’s one of those melody lines that you’ll hear in your sleep, and odds are will have you waking up in a cold sweat, jumping at the shadows that dance across your walls. It’s one of those odd moments in music that is downright scary as much as it is beautiful.
And, of course, there’s “My Girl,” which was made popular by Nirvana, who credit Lead Belly with actually writing it. After learning all of this, it definitely sounds like an old blues tune and amazingly fits in with the rest of My Own Private Alaska's brand of whatever it is they do. Talk about creepy, though. The combination of crooning vocals and softly plinking of piano keys creates the eeriest of elements. After hearing this song, I wouldn’t want to lie to this guy even in the slightest, mainly because I don’t know if he’s going to hurt me or himself. Talk about the tortured soul of the artist! This is a performance of epic proportions, the vocals creating that air of desperation that can only come from one who is tortured by love and pain, lines of lyrics spill from his mouth like he’s spent the entire night drinking to try and ease the pain, to blind the guilt, to accompany him to the grave. Even as the vocals open up to the more abrasive variety, they don’t lose the impact of pain. In fact, it sounds even more as if he’s having some internal struggle of right and wrong, or as if he were being dragged against his will into the darkness by his personal demons. Absolutely chilling song and one that requires more than one listen!
My Own Private Alaska isn’t going to appeal to everybody, of that there’s no doubt. But for those who are interested in hearing something left of center and as passionate as it comes, Amen is a quality record and can act as your personal soundtrack of tragedy. As I’ve mentioned, this album is about as avant garde as they come, but it never sounds forced or as if the band were trying to be something that they’re not. It feels natural and very stream of conscious in execution, almost like words from a poem set to the most haunting and chilling sounds ever created by a piano. Though the instrumentation is sparse, the arrangements have a complexity to them that keep them intriguing and worth further and further investigation. The happy times are practically impossible to be found, so be prepared to don your darkest duds, stock up on cigarettes, and pour yourself a tall glass of whiskey as you immerse yourself in the mire of desperation that is Amen. - Pope JTE
www.myspace.com/myownprivatealaska
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