Post by hyunhye on Aug 17, 2006 9:59:00 GMT -5
The following is an article appearing in the Sept issue of Soma Magazine. (www.somamagazine.com) But I thought I would put it up here because the magazine is hard to find in many places. The article also includes new pictures taken by Christelle Imperial de Castro.
Think of XiuXiu a little like letting blood out. Their upcoming album, The Air Force, epitomizes the surgical meticulousness with which their sounds are scalpeled apart and bled together. Jamie Stewart and Caralee McElroy have always been guilty old surgeons, but they contribute much of the new album’s distinctively precise distortions to the steady hand of their producer, Greg Saunier (Deerhoof). “He really pushed the complexities of the harmony up a notch. He has a definite and particular aesthetic, and added that to a lot of the detailed elements… We put in the little extra time on every detail to make a not-so-obvious sound, to make it exactly the way we would want it,” acknowledges Jamie.
I imagine trying to describe this “way” that XiuXiu would want, as is betrayed in their music. The layers of various and textured sounds, Jamie’s hoarsely screaming whispers, Caralee’s doll-like singing—it’s like being in a room full of Pollocks and Rothkos, watching paintings so distinct and vigilant spin into a well-calculated continuity of color and force.
“Exactly the way” they want it is also not easy. Their songs are often throbbing with death, violence, rape, and the Wigmaster. And nothing is feigned. It’s probably true—all the gossip you’ve heard about all the sex and death circling XiuXiu. And as Jamie admits, “I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t want to write about,” their music never builds a wall to hide, but lays open the blood and guts of these experiences.
And I imagine also trying to describe the members of Xiu Xiu. Caralee, warm and open, a sweet lady (except maybe when she’s dancing dirty). She’s week one into trying to quit drinking by occupying herself with puzzles instead. Jamie has a mouth and eyes whose corners tend to tilt downward a little, giving his face a look of puppy-dog innocence, perfect for coaxing wild creatures for when he goes bird-watching. (And the soon-to-be third XiuXiu-ian, Ches Smith, never a more easy-going and affable percussionist.)
And so it might make you wonder where the XiuXiu comes from. Not so innocent and sweet, but afflicted with tenderness for experience. Someone fidgeting with both childish gestures and wailing senility, yet scrupulously dissecting the violence and desperation, the regret and acceptance of a fully grown man growing up. Yet the way XiuXiu cuts it feels so good in the end. So yes, loving XiuXiu is a little like letting blood out.
Think of XiuXiu a little like letting blood out. Their upcoming album, The Air Force, epitomizes the surgical meticulousness with which their sounds are scalpeled apart and bled together. Jamie Stewart and Caralee McElroy have always been guilty old surgeons, but they contribute much of the new album’s distinctively precise distortions to the steady hand of their producer, Greg Saunier (Deerhoof). “He really pushed the complexities of the harmony up a notch. He has a definite and particular aesthetic, and added that to a lot of the detailed elements… We put in the little extra time on every detail to make a not-so-obvious sound, to make it exactly the way we would want it,” acknowledges Jamie.
I imagine trying to describe this “way” that XiuXiu would want, as is betrayed in their music. The layers of various and textured sounds, Jamie’s hoarsely screaming whispers, Caralee’s doll-like singing—it’s like being in a room full of Pollocks and Rothkos, watching paintings so distinct and vigilant spin into a well-calculated continuity of color and force.
“Exactly the way” they want it is also not easy. Their songs are often throbbing with death, violence, rape, and the Wigmaster. And nothing is feigned. It’s probably true—all the gossip you’ve heard about all the sex and death circling XiuXiu. And as Jamie admits, “I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t want to write about,” their music never builds a wall to hide, but lays open the blood and guts of these experiences.
And I imagine also trying to describe the members of Xiu Xiu. Caralee, warm and open, a sweet lady (except maybe when she’s dancing dirty). She’s week one into trying to quit drinking by occupying herself with puzzles instead. Jamie has a mouth and eyes whose corners tend to tilt downward a little, giving his face a look of puppy-dog innocence, perfect for coaxing wild creatures for when he goes bird-watching. (And the soon-to-be third XiuXiu-ian, Ches Smith, never a more easy-going and affable percussionist.)
And so it might make you wonder where the XiuXiu comes from. Not so innocent and sweet, but afflicted with tenderness for experience. Someone fidgeting with both childish gestures and wailing senility, yet scrupulously dissecting the violence and desperation, the regret and acceptance of a fully grown man growing up. Yet the way XiuXiu cuts it feels so good in the end. So yes, loving XiuXiu is a little like letting blood out.