Review Summary: A wonderfully atypical pop record
It has been a long time since I have actively sought the music of the mainstream charts, mainly because in the 10 year interval inbetween my formative years on this planet and my early teens, I developed a modicum of taste. Misguidedly edgy, cringe-inducing taste by my own admission all these years later, but taste nonetheless. There is a common opinion of pop music, in that everyone believes their generation was the best, predominantly because it is what permeated the radio and pop culture of the day, and was more easily absorbed than avoided by young ears; hence, an understandable, yet obviously biased viewpoint. I used to be particularly guilty of this hilariously twee elitism, and to some extent I stand by it. The unexpected flipside of this generalization, though, is that the pop music I consider to be good these days, in my eyes at least, actually seems to be better than what I remember from my earlier years- there is simply less of it. Cutting through the dense shrubbery of overproduced sexualised tripe and derivative dance tracks reveals an understated layer to the industry, that seems edgier, more experimental, and genuinely intriguing. Before I knew what was going on, Justin Timberlake had released an album that was not only his best, but also a serious contender for album of the year. St. Vincent crafted a wacky synthpop hybrid that demonstrated remarkable songwriting ability. Lana Del Rey channeled a long-gone era through a sultry, soothing and utterly intoxicating vocal style and retrograde musicality. As with all music, it all comes down to personal taste, but the progression of sound manifest in more than a handful of popular artists is a refreshing and welcome development in the realm of modern pop.
Jillian Banks continues the tradition of understated, downtempo broodiness as exhibited by artists such as Lorde and FKA Twigs, personifying a songstress that is all at once hyperbolic, dynamic, and quintessentially human. The most noteworthy aspect of the release is the juxtaposition between music and voice; the music consistently plays second fiddle to Jillian’s breathless tones. The album covers and array of serious themes, but these can all be traced back to the touchstone of emotional fragility. By placing Banks’s voice at the forefront of the experience, the human element is emphasized and solidified as the centrepiece. Nowhere is this more noteworthy than the song ‘Trainwreck’- undeniably one of the album's darker moments, both thematically and musically, the track features Banks warbling through a skippy and juttering vocal rhythm, as synths wobble and bass booms in the background. The minimalism of the musicality accentuates complexity of the vocal style in such an unusual, yet cohesive way, the effect is almost like a spoken-word track, yet with an undefinable melody ever present lurking just beneath the rhythm. This effect is further highlighted by breaks in the music, in which Banks continues speaking into the silence, only for the rhythm to drop back in, and then be seamlessly caught once again by the vocal melody. It’s quite a marvelous production feat and an even more impressive showcase of songwriting ability.
The production of accessible and toe-tapping melody through unusual means is where
The Altar truly shines. ‘Judas’, for example, crafts a decidedly gospel-sounding beat but loops it against percussive soundbytes and a stop-start rhythm- which is then set against a familiar song structure; one foot in the mainstream, the other in the progressive slipstream. A large number of tracks on the album are somewhat dark in tone, and the consistent dominance of the voice at the forefront allows the themes to flourish. ‘Haunt’ and ‘Poltergeist’ utilize layered voice samples as their key melodies, and as such they feel more confrontational despite their relatively considered pace. The more minimal tracks of the album, such as openers ‘Gemini Feed’ and ‘*** With Myself’ are barebones melody and beats, but the wonderful illusion of vocal harmony on the initial track and the peaks-and-troughs delivery of the second are truly inspired. They transmit an incredible amount of emotion into deceptively vanilla musicality, injecting a sense of sombre wistfulness, or mischievous playfulness. Similarly, the straight-laced ‘This Is Not About Us’, and the slightly more pop-centric, yet still achingly beautiful ballad ‘To The Hilt’ are further examples of this illustrious creativity; sonically spellbinding, but completely familiar in an inexplicably nostalgic way.
Capitalising on the success of her excellent first effort, Banks surpasses herself and surprises everyone as she does so. There is no typical pop-star persona to be found, no diva antics, no awkward attempts at faddy production; to the contrary, the creative and anarchic song titles hint at an artist who is not attempting to please anyone, but rather ensure that they listen. As popular music goes, it is a joy to know that people are listening to and appreciating such a raw, gorgeous and unusual experience as this. It is edgy, without being pretentious. It is gritty, without being overbearing. It is heavily emotional, without being sappy. It is a pop album with a perfect balance between theming and artistic image, and this is an exceptionally rare thing when the key point of modern pop music is cynically exploiting popular trends to line tailored, executive pockets. Although
The Altar may be forced to play by these rules for now, it pulls no punches, and makes sure its suppressed anger and yearning emotionality is heard over the clamouring of mainstream acts and the closing of cash register draws. It is pure expression, direct from Jillian Banks’s heart into yours. As a singular experience, the album is a tantalising expression of emotion, a whirlwind of vibrant creativity and understated beauty- familiar, but wholly different.
