Record Recipes #50
Let us pray.
A selection of analog recommendations for your listening pleasure. Pulled from my personal collection. Today’s issue: the last record recipe, a double serving of the holy St. Vincent.
Marry Me - 2007
The start of it all, on an iPod in Toluca Lake. Berklee jazz influences on full display. See issue #33 for this record’s previous recipe placement. What, Me Worry?
Actor - 2009
My first time seeing St. Vincent was on this tour, at the El Rey theatre in mid-city Los Angeles, the poster from which has hung in every home I’ve occupied since. More than one jam has invited me to play the title track, which I oblige with delight. Woefully missing from my library. Marrow
Strange Mercy - 2011
The crest of the indie sleaze wave, which upon crashing would ebb and never flow again outside the chambers of nostalgia. At Coachella 2012, I watched her molest a theremin and crowd surf during her debut of the album-less single, Krokodil; it was the same weekend our overlords tried to get us on board with the Tupac hologram. Year of the Tiger
You can imagine how it felt like I really got away with something when they let me do Cheerleader at Ultimate Jam Night:
St. Vincent - 2014
The artist is reborn in alien form with the fourth record, a self-titled proclamation of identity. The David Bowie comparisons begin, the arrival of the signature guitar by Ernie Ball following shortly behind this release cycle. On Digital Witness, she foretells the influencer culture that was only nascent at the time of its writing. Over a decade later, the futurist perspective on performative social media feels uncanny:
Digital witnesses
What's the point of even sleeping?
If I can't show it, you can't see me
What's the point of doing anything?
MASSEDUCTION - 2017
Containment and restriction as a form of liberation. And lots of latex. A new edition of the signature guitar, including a leopard print pick guard, that I manage to refrain from investing in. A completely unexpected acoustic piano companion album placing these highly produced tracks in an organic, intimate context. I see the duet with Dua Lipa at the 2019 Grammys and bring it to my hairdresser for years to come. Dark hedonism, Young Lover and Slow Disco conjuring the desperation to connect in the wee hours at a village nightclub. Fear the Future
Daddy’s Home - 2021
So deeply New York. A concept album thanking Joan Didion and Candy Darling in the liner notes. A tour that looked like PBS on quaaludes. My first concert post quarantine, on NyQuil in a garden box at the Hollywood Bowl, hallucinating the Chelsea Hotel and the undeniable urge to slide into Fosse choreography during the title track. Her Zane Lowe interview acknowledging creative blocks has found a permanent place in my own anxiety toolkit; even Grammy winners get insecure. Down and Out Downtown
So deeply did I connect to the world of this record (and its ensuing edition of the signature guitar model), I could no longer put off adding the Music Man StV to my lineup. I took a swing and landed an artist support agreement, feeling the legitimacy of my independent musicianship in a whole new way.
All Born Screaming - 2024
The nihilist period arrives: Hell is Near. Smoke em if you got em. We’re All Born Screaming and the world is on fire, but music is still worth making. Fully self-produced for the first time and inviting the likes of Dave Grohl and Cate LeBon into the mix, this record was followed by a version entirely en español. Global perspective, macro vision, the artist in full mastery. Flea
Full house at the Orpheum in New Orleans, all about that here.
Live in London! - 2026
When the compositions from the entire discography are so strong they merit a final tour with a full orchestra, where do we even go from here? A Stop Making Sense style concert film? A multi-media autobiography1? A hard pivot into film scoring à la Trent Reznor, Danny Elfman, et al? The saint ascends. The Party
These Record Recipes began as a journal entry and blossomed into a gentle way to celebrate physical media and musical discovery. We used to make each other mixtapes, then playlists, and now we send memes. I hope any of these 50 newsletters have inspired you to reject convenience and automation in favor of the texture of the tangible. Nothing beats the crackle of a needle on PVC, or pushing air through an amplifier. More soon. X
Keep listening.
The Nowhere Inn doesn’t count.
I enjoy these so much. While I feel like a good number of them have shown me we have fairly different taste in music, I’ve found them all to be very insightful. Please continue to write.