As a rule, I’m at the extreme end of the scepticism spectrum when it comes to the idea of Authenticity in pop. I’m usually a hardliner who believes that everyone is faking it (indeed, Faking It: The Quest For Authenticity In Popular Music by Hugh Barker & Yuval Taylor is my go-to text on these matters), and that the moment you solidify your emotions into rhyming couplets and take them into the studio for a dozen different takes, you’ve severed the umbilical cord between the feelings you had in the first place and the form of expression you’ve chosen for them (i.e. a song). I’m also someone who believes that what we take to be Soul in a singer usually consists of a handful of codified vocal mannerisms and facial tics, which are understood by the listener to signify ‘meaning it’, even though they are by no means proof of the ‘it’ being meant. (Far from it, in fact.) But there’s always this slight window ajar in my wall of certainty, and once in a while, something comes along which pushes it open. Future Islands on Letterman didn’t bother with such niceties, and kicked the glass into tiny shards.
Simon Price writes for the Quietus on Future Islands. I tend to be only a little less cynical than Price on this scale, but he writes brilliantly and at length here. I’ll admit, they haven’t 100% clicked with me yet, but I can see all this – especially in that performance. (via kierongillen)