
Posted May 24, 2020 at 9:47
Genre: Indie
Written by
Becca Carroll
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If Rex Orange County doesn't hit like he used to, then you haven't jammed this hidden gem off "Pony"
While I’ll admit this album feels a bit low-impact for the artist, I think it’s only fair to hone in on a song that helps restore this record’s shine.
Alex O’Connor is Rex Orange County: a collaborator, who’s work on Tyler the Creator‘s Flower Boy blew up what was at first a fairly measly solo career; a multi-instrumentalist whose craft seems near-reliant on quippy electric piano riffs; a character, whose boyish thoughts remind us what it feels like to be human. And he is here to shed some light on, well, himself, apparently – to say his latest record leans on self-reflection would be to put it simply. As his junior effort, Pony gives a detailed glimpse into the master-of-none mindset that lives behind the monomer we know as Rex Orange County. Like his music, Rex is smart, sincere and sensitive – a recipe that may result in pretty frequent oversharing sessions, but proves that “earnest” doesn’t always have to mean “evolved.” His lyrics’ mix of sadness, self-loathing, comic self-criticism and lighthearted let-downs, along with hints of feeble optimism, have come to form a catalog of slim and sentimental little jams (but also tend to call to question this guy’s coping skills).
But that’s not to say that his songs’ relatability factor has lent itself to industry support. Especially with the anticipation surrounding this release – it being the first non-rushed material to follow his work on Flower Boy and all – the 21-year-old got pretty badly burned by some of music’s biggest voices. The Guardian argues that “when he’s aiming for optimism, it can feel flat or almost gratingly saccharine,” stating that, as a whole, the album “meanders, seemingly uncertain of its purpose.” Pitchfork – a publishing not known for treading lightly – deems Pony “a collection of 10 new songs irritating enough to activate the mildest allergy to sincerity,” noting that, regardless of his reputation as an ‘old soul,’ “his newest music is relentlessly juvenile.”
“Always” by Rex Orange County official audio via YouTube; off new record Pony
Let’s get this part out of the way: this is not one of those articles. While I’ll admit this album feels a bit low-impact for the artist, whose beats just used to hit a little harder, I wanted to hone in on one song that I think helps restore this record’s shine. The teaser track, “Always,” is one of the moments on the album where we get to see straight through to the humanity of Rex. This song is rich in, yes, practically all the things to love about the guy – his soulful, poppy sensibilities; his big, orchestral instrumentals; his approachable yet crippling sense of angst – which I realize makes an easy argument for this track being just plain likable. But keep in mind, it’s not necessarily likability that Rex is after. This song is just as rich in all the things considered so widely “irritating” about the artist – his unrelenting pessimism, his all-too-obvious (and, frankly, too ironic) sense of clarity, and his inability to reconcile these two points-of-view. But, I mean, you can tell he’s trying:
My apologies, it’s such a shame, I never planned to feel this way, But the more that I try the more I’m seeing the difference, I’m not gonna lie. And now I get to sit down, and I’m happy to admit now, I’m on my way. It seems I’m not invincible but I’m bored of the pain”
Plenty irritating to the self-assured, sure, but endearing to those less-equipped. “Always” is the anthem for the guy who prefers always looking down to making eye contact, but who occasionally, just occasionally, will look up at the sky, and smile. (We all know that guy.) Although, the difference with Rex Orange, being, that he doesn’t seem so quite consoled by simple pleasures. In “Always,” he poses as so adamantly headstrong that he just gets in his own damn way.
“There will always be a part of me that’s holding on and still believes that everything is fine, and that I’m living a normal life. But until somebody sits me down and tells me why I’m different now, I’ll always be the way I always am.”
That being said, between the luscious string arrangements, soulful horn harmonies, it’s waltz-like pace and bubbling synths, “Always” is still the most chill explosion of depressive emotion you’ve ever heard – sort of like how I picture Seth Rogan being like on Ambien. And it’s in these moments of clarity – these brief clips where he manages to quickly come to terms, but just as quickly relapse; where hope gets weighed on heavily by introspection – where you get to see the very human core of Rex. His soundtrack is this twisted world where anxiety is a product of laziness, and self-loathing a product of feeling you’ve plateaued. Are these shortcomings very helpful? No – relatable, though? Totally.
This song looks at topics like being loved through all your flaws, getting a little older but not quite old enough, and being easily stressed out by just existing, bringing clarity to even the most convoluted of sensations. Bright blends of indie, hip hop, jazz and synth-pop work in time with adolescent lyrics to maintain harmony between the sunny and the bleak – a little twenty-one-pilots-esq, if you ask me. This artist’s anxieties feel as though they’re filtered through a teenaged lens, where it seems impossible to step back far enough to see things clearly, and everything just seems to bring you pain. I mean, I feel you, Rex, but for this singer, it’s gonna take a little more than solid mom advice to shake his boyish ways.
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If Rex Orange County doesn’t hit like he used to, then you haven’t jammed this hidden gem off “Pony”
While I’ll admit this album feels a bit low-impact for the artist, I think it’s only fair to hone in on a song that helps restore this record’s shine.
by: Becca Carroll
May 24 2020 | INDIE
Alex O’Connor is Rex Orange County: a collaborator, who’s work on Tyler the Creator‘s Flower Boy blew up what was at first a fairly measly solo career; a multi-instrumentalist whose craft seems near-reliant on quippy electric piano riffs; a character, whose boyish thoughts remind us what it feels like to be human. And he is here to shed some light on, well, himself, apparently – to say his latest record leans on self-reflection would be to put it simply. As his junior effort, Pony gives a detailed glimpse into the master-of-none mindset that lives behind the monomer we know as Rex Orange County. Like his music, Rex is smart, sincere and sensitive – a recipe that may result in pretty frequent oversharing sessions, but proves that “earnest” doesn’t always have to mean “evolved.” His lyrics’ mix of sadness, self-loathing, comic self-criticism and lighthearted let-downs, along with hints of feeble optimism, have come to form a catalog of slim and sentimental little jams (but also tend to call to question this guy’s coping skills).
But that’s not to say that his songs’ relatability factor has lent itself to industry support. Especially with the anticipation surrounding this release – it being the first non-rushed material to follow his work on Flower Boy and all – the 21-year-old got pretty badly burned by some of music’s biggest voices. The Guardian argues that “when he’s aiming for optimism, it can feel flat or almost gratingly saccharine,” stating that, as a whole, the album “meanders, seemingly uncertain of its purpose.” Pitchfork – a publishing not known for treading lightly – deems Pony “a collection of 10 new songs irritating enough to activate the mildest allergy to sincerity,” noting that, regardless of his reputation as an ‘old soul,’ “his newest music is relentlessly juvenile.”
“Always” by Rex Orange County official audio via YouTube; off new record Pony
Let’s get this part out of the way: this is not one of those articles. While I’ll admit this album feels a bit low-impact for the artist, whose beats just used to hit a little harder, I wanted to hone in on one song that I think helps restore this record’s shine. The teaser track, “Always,” is one of the moments on the album where we get to see straight through to the humanity of Rex. This song is rich in, yes, practically all the things to love about the guy – his soulful, poppy sensibilities; his big, orchestral instrumentals; his approachable yet crippling sense of angst – which I realize makes an easy argument for this track being just plain likable. But keep in mind, it’s not necessarily likability that Rex is after. This song is just as rich in all the things considered so widely “irritating” about the artist – his unrelenting pessimism, his all-too-obvious (and, frankly, too ironic) sense of clarity, and his inability to reconcile these two points-of-view. But, I mean, you can tell he’s trying:
My apologies, it’s such a shame, I never planned to feel this way, But the more that I try the more I’m seeing the difference, I’m not gonna lie. And now I get to sit down, and I’m happy to admit now, I’m on my way. It seems I’m not invincible but I’m bored of the pain”
Plenty irritating to the self-assured, sure, but endearing to those less-equipped. “Always” is the anthem for the guy who prefers always looking down to making eye contact, but who occasionally, just occasionally, will look up at the sky, and smile. (We all know that guy.) Although, the difference with Rex Orange, being, that he doesn’t seem so quite consoled by simple pleasures. In “Always,” he poses as so adamantly headstrong that he just gets in his own damn way.
There will always be a part of me that’s holding on and still believes that everything is fine, and that I’m living a normal life. But until somebody sits me down and tells me why I'm different now, I'll always be the way I always am.
That being said, between the luscious string arrangements, soulful horn harmonies, it’s waltz-like pace and bubbling synths, “Always” is still the most chill explosion of depressive emotion you’ve ever heard – sort of like how I picture Seth Rogan being like on Ambien. And it’s in these moments of clarity – these brief clips where he manages to quickly come to terms, but just as quickly relapse; where hope gets weighed on heavily by introspection – where you get to see the very human core of Rex. His soundtrack is this twisted world where anxiety is a product of laziness, and self-loathing a product of feeling you’ve plateaued. Are these shortcomings very helpful? No – relatable, though? Totally.
This song looks at topics like being loved through all your flaws, getting a little older but not quite old enough, and being easily stressed out by just existing, bringing clarity to even the most convoluted of sensations. Bright blends of indie, hip hop, jazz and synth-pop work in time with adolescent lyrics to maintain harmony between the sunny and the bleak – a little twenty-one-pilots-esq, if you ask me. This artist’s anxieties feel as though they’re filtered through a teenaged lens, where it seems impossible to step back far enough to see things clearly, and everything just seems to bring you pain. I mean, I feel you, Rex, but for this singer, it’s gonna take a little more than solid mom advice to shake his boyish ways.
Posted October 20, 2018 at 11:46 PM
Written by Becca Carroll
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