Marry Me

"Elegantly crafted and darkly mischievous."
- Magnet

"An utterly charming release from a songwriter who has definitely stepped away from the pack."
- Under The Radar

"'Marry Me' seduces with one hand and stabs with the other."
- The Onion (10/10)

"This saint is worthy of her own following."
- Entertainment Weekly

"'Marry Me' isn't a religious experience, but it's unequivocally divine."
- Slant Magazine

"…nearly irresistible, and one of the best indie pop albums to come around in a long time."
- All Music Guide

There are some people born with a deeper connection to the music they make and it shows in their songs. Their passion shows, their unique point-of-view shows, all the magical riffs and ideas that haunt and stalk through their headspace show.

St. Vincent is Annie Clark is one of these people. Born in Tulsa, OK, Annie was crafting homespun guitars from cardboard and rubber bands by age 9. By age 12, she had moved on to the real thing and fallen quickly in love.

Growing up in Bible-belted Texas, Clark buried herself in Coltrane records, Tennessee Williams plays and her Catholic, Jewish, Unitarian and Meher Baba-loving family - all of this finds its way, with smirks and reverence, into her music.

St. Vincent makes cinematic pop epics that feel at times like Paris in the '20s before the fun ended. Or, an orchestra of pure modernity, a new American music, informed by jazz, gospel blues, Southern folk music and classical composition, but in the end, an animal original unto itself. All of which is exposed on her Beggars Banquet debut, 'Marry Me'.

On 'Marry Me', there's a smartly crafted deluge of guitar, bass and beats pulsing forward with warmth and immediacy alongside Annie's classy soprano. Her lyrics can be weird or tongue-in-cheek or dead serious, capturing what it's like to be 24yrs old in America, caught up in love blues and wartime blues and swashbuckling adventures of existence.

Horns and strings cry out brassy and full-bodied over digital keyboards. Songs rock out vigorously, break down into squiggling post-noise-rock deconstructions, or roll out mellow and slow-flowing as a river. Backing harmonies and kiddie choirs loom in the distance, rise, and lilt above the stately grandiosity.

'Marry Me's songs are literary, evocative, and complicated; their dramatic ebb and flow is wildly varied, but a smooth and cohesive ride through and through. All told, you could listen to St. Vincent's 'Marry Me' for years and never get sick of it; like your favourite book or movie, you'll always find something new whenever you come back.