Listening to Grimes, aka Claire Boucher, you get the sense that there are several incongruous events happening at once, and entirely by accident—as if the default were pandemonium, and any moments of clarity or brilliance, pure happenstance. The day we talk on the phone was no exception: she accidentally pressed the mute button mid-conversation, someone came to her door, someone left, the cat almost escaped, the cat ate a monster bag of catnip, she knocked over a giant ashtray, the call dropped, the other line kept ringing, Mercury was in retrograde. The slow-burning chaos that infuses her music also seems to permeate her entire being. (Read more here.)
The Fader, July 2011
- July 2 2012 | 9 Notes - Read More →
