Showing posts with label Liz Harris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Liz Harris. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Track Attack- "Heavy Water/I'd Rather Be Sleeping" (Grouper, 2008)

























I can't say for certain, but Grouper's 2008 track "Heavy Water/I'd Rather Be Sleeping" may have more plays than any other song in my entire collection. Of the 28,000 songs I have, comprising more than 76 days’ worth of music, "Heavy Water/I'd Rather Be Sleeping" commands the most respect. There are songs I’ve loved longer, but none that I've fallen as hard for. Liz Harris' diminutive ambient-folk tune is an effort you put on once and continue hitting repeat on an hour later. Its spellbinding minimalism performed at the highest level. 

Such starkness flows out of every corner of Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill, from opener "Disengaged"s impossibly decipherable vocals to the LP’s tragically candid cover. That picture is one that grabbed me when I first saw the record inside Kansas City’s defunct Streetside Records and pulled me right towards the cashier's counter. Like Ana of the Spanish-classic The Spirit of the Beehive, there's a hopeless naiveté radiating out of her eyes. An unquestionable dread seizes her face for certain, but also an odd whimsy. Perhaps she's standing like a tiny Terra Cotta soldier because she's out in those desolate woods playing freeze tag. That strange dichotomy played out in a story (partially referenced here) where a young Harris dragged a deer carcass up a hill to impress a friend. Rather than express amusement, there was only bewilderment. Harris' attempt to be "remembered" in a positive fashion had failed.

"Heavy Water/I'd Rather Be Sleeping" is consumed with this universal desire. In particular, love is what Harris softly hopes will "lift her up." Even without a lyrical aid, Harris' delicate whisper leaves a sizable impression. "Cries for attention that go unnoticed" is how a good friend and roommate of mine once described Harris' music as Grouper and "Heavy Water" was the track he was first referring to. If not for the gallons of reverb poured on her vocals you'd be able to hear Harris weeping in between guitar strums. For every day these intense feelings persist, another tear plunks to the floor. Roy Orbison once sang of "dreams" being the only places his wishes could become real and Harris is caught in the same predicament. It's in the dreams of the indelible chorus where Harris is lifted up and can see over mountains of disappointment. More than just wishful fulfillment, her dreams shield her from an unforgiving world. A world where you're routinely ignored and frequently forgotten about. In reality relationships can be cleaved in an instant, in dreams they can last forever. Can you fault Harris for wanting to sleep in?



Wednesday, November 27, 2013

"Blood Moon"- Raum

























By now it's been well-documented on the blog that Liz Harris' ambient wanderings as Grouper register as "quiet cries for attention that go unnoticed". Grouper's aching whispers don't push through but waft, constantly in danger of floating away. More than simple "cries for attention", they're cries of desperation. Harris' work quite often provides auditory evidence of a silent struggle.

Raum, her musical collaboration with multi-instrumentalist Jefre Cantu-Ledesma doesn't stray far from the slowly decaying Grouper formula. In true Grouper fashion, ambient waves spill forth from the speakers, creating a near-drowning sensation. Mere "dabbling" with Liz Harris work is impossible, only immersion can occur. Here though, that immersion or drowning sensation doesn't feel so isolated. The ambient waves cresting towards white noise suggest a doomed choir, submersed under the water. Layers of voices struggle towards the surface, as bone-numbing feedback continues to churn. Similarly swathes of shoegazing guitar fight to be heard in the whirling vortex. As dispiriting as it sounds, there's a silver lining buried underneath. If you're already doomed, there's joy in knowing you're not alone.

Event of Your Leaving is available digitally through Boomkat and iTunes now.

Friday, September 13, 2013

"Felt This Way"- Helen

























As Grouper, Portland-native Liz Harris makes hazy ambient drones that have been called "silent cries for attention that go unnoticed". Grouper's music conjures a wounded animal's cries reflecting off every tree branch or the sound of a person slowly coming to terms with ocean waves washing over them. More than resignation, many of her great songs were about restlessness, searching for a place where "spirit meets skin". New side-project Helen (which Liz Harris formed with friends Scott Simmons and Jed Bindeman) retains that restlessness, while ratcheting up the RPMs. The band tongue-in-cheekily labels their music "pop" on their iTunes page, but anything this blown-out is unlikely to appear on Billboard anytime soon. Harris' vocals continue to fight to be heard, though the foes have shifted from floating ambient scapes to fuzz guitar, bass rumbles, and punctuating drum blasts. “Felt This Way” could pass as Best Coast if Bethany Cosentino stood 30 feet from the microphone and never saw the Sun. Harris never stays one line for long, she glides over all. Harris is still "searching"; new project Helen just hastens the pace. 

The "Felt This Way" single is available on iTunes now, backed by B-side "Dying All The Time".