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Clue To Kalo, "Lily Perdida"
Australian laptopper Mark Mitchell has made an insanely ambitious and hyper-literate psych-pop concept album. Unfortunately, it is also a veritable volcano of twee.
Lily Perdida consists of ten songs about the fictional, faux-folkloric titular character. It is difficult to decipher what exactly Lily's story consists of but I am fairly certain that there is some doomed love, a mining disaster, and possibly some witchcraft. The details are purposely left cryptic. Each song is written from the perspective of a different figure in Perdida's life (The Sister, The Narrator, The Eavesdropper, etc.) and offer differing and obscured post-mortem commentaries on prior events that are never made explicit. Essentially, Mitchell wrote a complicated folktale, then garbled it kaleidoscopically to create an enigmatic meditation on identity, the nature of truth, and perspective. As if that wasn't enough, the lyrics are frequently impenetrably complex ("All the while the copy in his mind that can stay every side has partial proportion and odd space and time.") and follow a dialogue-heavy Greek tragedy structure (there is even an omniscient chorus).
Mitchell is clearly a skilled and inventive multi-instrumentalist and arranger. While the songs are generally piano-based, Lily Perdida is packed with xylophones, organs, horns, backwards guitars, violins, and probably all kinds of other shit that I was unable to identify. It is remarkable that Mitchell made this album on a laptop, as the wall of sound he creates does not sound at all like the work of a solitary man and a computer. It is equally impressive how skillfully he juggles so many tracks and instruments with such clarity. Unfortunately, the trade-off to his exactitude is that the album is burdened with very smooth production that considerably mutes its impact. Also, Lily Perdida seems to suffer from the same flaw that ruined Of Montreal's Skeletal Lamping—way too many ambitious musical ideas to be forcibly crammed into just one album. The concept of space is woefully underdeveloped here.
The opener ("Lull For Dear Life") is one of the stronger, most melodic tracks and is the first of many duets between Mitchell and guest-vocalist Ellen Carey. Their vocals harmonize nicely and the song builds steadily as new elements are incorporated (xylophones, trumpets, layered backing vocals). It's astonishing that any of these songs are melodic and catchy at all, given that the lyrics resemble Homeric verse more than contemporary songcraft. "It's Here The Story's Straight" also starts out very promisingly with a warm organ riff and some cool off-beat ride cymbal, but rapidly becomes too saccharine and fluffy for my taste. Another track that stands out is "The Infinite Orphan." Its retro organ riff, bongos, and wah-wah guitar solo would not sound out of place on a Nuggets compilation. I believe there's even some righteous glockenspiel on display here too.
I cannot begin to imagine how long it must have taken Mitchell to conceive, record, and edit this album. Consequently, it is somewhat heartbreaking for me to say that I really didn't like it at all. In fact, I had a very difficult time making it through the whole thing in one sitting. Aside from the overproduction and the inherent impossibility in making something moving and enjoyable out of such an inviolably dense thicket of words, Lily Perdida just sounds cloyingly lightweight. When Carey is involved, the resemblance to a psychedelic poor man's Mates of State is particularly acute. Without knowing the album's backstory or seeing the lyrics, these songs could easily be mistaken for the work of any number of other bands. Granted, Mitchell is much more ambitious with his instrumentation than most, but this album has no immediacy, sharp edges, or relatable songs.
Samples:
• Lull For Dear Life
• It's Here The Story's Straight
• The Infinite Orphan
