Scott Walker - Scott
April 16th, 2008
By Phil Borreson and Jordan McNiven
The opening mallet-matted drum roll of Scott Walker’s solo debut is an extremely telling introduction. It instantly becomes clear that this pop album is to be both a heroic and tragic epic. Similarly, glancing upon the portrait of Walker that covers his 1967 Scott is an equally epiphanic experience. Upon a glance or a listen, Scott Walker is clarified to be a deceptively upbeat dark horse of sixties pop. “Man behind the music” clichés however, do not apply to walker. Whereas fellow morbid rockers like David Bowie and Lou Reed create characters that parallel their music, the orchestrations on Scott are glistening, albeit mediated, representations of his true being. Walker and his music are thus two sides of the same tragic hero.
Like all good teen idol crazes, Walker curls his blonde hair. His mod-revival bangs provide a candid visual metaphor of the delightful melodrama that guides Walker’s style. Scott Walker is a crooner. His static mane quickly cues you in to the overly emotive ballads that he lays his baritone upon. Songs like “When Joanna Loved Me” tell stories of love and love lost that are so sappy it is almost humorous. With continued listening however, these Catalanoesque crush tales become incredibly endearing. Walker’s delivery takes the increasingly constricting genre of the love song and manipulates it to fit his overly intellectual palm. The result is charmingly empathetic reworking of the girl-group naivety that we all love so much.
Scott Walker has beautiful and intense eyes. His sad stare casts an unnerving shade upon the viewer as she/he is floored by their fierceness. The same intensity that his eyes exude is seen in flawless style on the album opener. In the track simply titled “Mathilde,” Walker successfully anglicizes Belgian talisman Jacques Brel’s chilling satire into an impassioned Spectorish epic. Zealous fire blasts out of Walker’s heart as he conveys the difficulty of loving someone that you also loathe. By the song’s conclusion the listener is knocked back by the wall of trumpets battling for space behind Walker’s shadowy croon.
Most charming of all of Walker’s features however is not his hair or his eyes but his self-aware smirk. It is as if Walker has already discovered that life is ridiculous and he uses this freedom to allow him to break through any apprehensions attached to making cheesy orchestrated pop. Walker is sadly, honestly and truly free. What better way to use freedom than to croon a little?
Check this album out if you like: Pulp, Frank Sinatra, Serge Gainsbourg and Blur.
To hear tracks from the Scott and hear other such poppy delights, tune into Radio K’s “Last Years Model” on Monday April 21st and 28th.
