Sound of the Sound: Dirty Beaches, Badlands
So when the Weeknd started leaking tracks and had the Internet goin’ nuts (O! The halcyon days of February!) they were leaving me dry. I just chalked it up to “Good PR” and “The presence of guitars” and set it aside. Then House of Balloons came out and the sexy allure of its surface / its disturbing hollowness really resonated with me. Plus: c’mon, it’s straight-up night bus. But I looked back at my notes to Badlands and realized the album had the exact same thing going for it. Lying right there, labeled as “ambient garage” (whatever that means) and I’ve described Dirty Beaches as kind of rockabilly, too, but they’re more of a pastiche of “every good song, from the 1950s–’70s” with a nice fuzzy texture. I knew immediately that I liked ’em, but I thought there was no emotional core.
I was wrong, though. Badlands’ center is elusive, but it is there. Alex Zhang Hungtai lets it wander through his songs like a jaguar, we catch glimpses when everything goes quiet: we realize the jaguar is majestic but tender, easily cut and we understand why he has to erect these walls around it, to keep it safe. And we understand that we need both. (Also, Alex Zhang Hungtai? One sexy motherfucker.)
The Weeknd, on the other hand, opens up with “Trust me girl: you wanna be high for this,” and I totally believe him. I actually think to request a blindfold: as much as I know I’m going to enjoy what’s about to creep up on me, there is an overpowering feeling I’ll want to remember as little as possible.
(WAIT WHAT ROBOCOP?)
Anyway: Dirty Beaches. Good beat and you can dance to it. Listen to ’em.
