I don’t know.
There’s this moment on ‘Assume Form’, the opener of, well,
Assume Form, where both falsetto and instrumental stall – the twinkling arpeggios, the raindrop hi-hats – and within the song’s threads a bar of verse manifests, much like a spectre, there and then not:
“It feels like a thousand-pound weight holding your body down in a pool of water barely reaching your chin.”
A friend of mine compared this to XXX’s prologue on
17, on which the now-deceased rapper hoped for the album “to cure, or at least numb, [one’s] depression”. That isn’t a favourable comparison – even less so when
17’s “explanation” is deemed preferable. It isn’t this notion of music as “cure”, however, that’s so problematic. Rather, it’s the lack of subtelty involved. It’s the trite, obvious nature of such a line and, indeed, its placement. I mean, of course the “it” – that which holds one down within that pool of water – is that of “depression”. Of a clinical sort, I presume, though perhaps not. A quick google search confirms as much: the line’s taken from a spoken word piece entitled just that, ‘Depression’. That the bar’s given so much weight within the context of the song is telling, then.
Of what though, I’m not sure.
On the one hand, I understand – at least I think I do. It’s the headiness of what’s being discussed. It demands, to some extent, a level of care. That of sensitivity, and so, of course, subtelty. But at the same time, I’m not convinced
Assume Form is that lacking. Sure, ‘Power On’ buckles under the pressure of its headiness. A line like “if it feels like a home, power on”, coupled with, for example, “I thought I might be better dead, but I was wrong”, can be difficult to stomach at the best of times. It discards a note about suicide as if it were nothing. It capitalises on the album’s theme of narcissism, but then speaks to its audience as though protagonist and artist and listener were one in the same. It is, however, the least condescending piece I’ve heard this side of Perfume Genius’ ‘Normal Song’ – almost as encouraging, too. Even still, ‘Mile High’ and ‘Tell Them’, the album’s Metro Boomin-produced traversal through mood-driven trap, sees Blake plunging himself further down this shallow pool of aggrandisement, prevarication, and narcissistic self-obsession. But to view these songs as less than disturbing is odd to me. There’s a deep pessimism to both. The two are from flexes. Their hollowness is far from fun.
On ‘Where’s the Catch?’, the ever wise André 3000 preludes his verse with the fact that it “may be a little heady”. And though “[he hates] heady-ass verses, [he] wrote [that] shit”, and so he delivers it. Of course, the statement is far more obvious than the verse itself. (I mean, “A burden in beautiful times, a garden snake / Won’t bite me, but frightens me like I know I’m ate”❔
Fuck.) But more than that verse is “subtle”, it is personal. What I think it demonstrates it this: though there is a disjunct between art as means of expression – and art as a product for consumption – there is nevertheless “truth” in art.
Assume Form’s themes are, I’ve little doubt, obvious, though perhaps no less truthful. We can never know – the extent of just how genuine Blake is, that is – but for what it’s worth, I think there’s something there.
If nothing else, ‘If the Car Beside You’ was evidence of that something. Whatever your thoughts on the music itself, the sentiment was strong: “I’m struggling. You’re struggling. We’ll get through this.” I mean, that
is trite. I know it is. But it’s comforting.
Assume Form is comforting. And there’s enough self-reflection in it to trust in Blake’s awareness of what
it in fact is. Even if he doesn't, I don't know how much it matters. In some sense, it’s an attack against those who attacked his sense of sorrow. In another, it’s an attempt to do just as its title suggests, “assume form”. It’s both validation and rejection of the “self” – and then, it's an application of that process to some “collective self”. It’s as trite as those descriptions – perhaps even as obvious – but it’s also a bit successful in that, and to some extent – in fact, to a great extent – that's comforting.
I don’t know, though. Power on, I guess.
