Nathan Ventura - Silly Secret
Self-released
It's like someone gained access to where I hoard my most intimate and fervent thoughts regarding cassette releases and compiled said thoughts on a sheet of loose leaf paper and slipped the paper under the pillow of Nathan Ventura, who then had the paper laminated and furnished with adhesive before sticking it to one of the walls in his shower, where he read the words over and over as he washed and waited for inspiration to sneak up behind him and poke his ribs.
Silly Secret has everything I lust for in a tape: pure originality, refined weirdness, an infectious mood, one artist handling all the instrumentation, lo-fi sensibilities—and, most crucial of all, a cover of Stevie Nicks' and Lindsey Buckingham's "Landslide!" In Ventura's hands, the song is unrecognizable save for the lyrics. Ventura, who sings in a guttural and menacing manner (he casually reminds me of Billy Bob Thornton in Sling Blade), wrings out all the poignant self-reflection, and replaces it with anguish and hopelessness. It's fucking glorious.
Tracks like "The Mayor" have me thinking Ventura's approach to songwriting works like this: A melody comes to him, but rather than transcribe it from his head to his guitar exactly as is, he does an approximation of the melody; he leaves out a note or three, slows down/speeds up the tempo a tad, plays purposely sloppy. On "Funny Feelings," it sounds like Ventura is simply plucking open strings, like when someone who has never touched a guitar picks up the instrument for the first time and makes an earnest attempt to legitimately play.
The vocals on "Outside" are a bit low in the mix, which creates the impression that Ventura is singing from inside your walls or beneath your floorboards. Upon further thought, this is possibly how Ventura was able to access my most intimate and fervent thoughts regarding cassette releases. I'm now weirded out.
No comments:
Post a Comment