As an artist I always know I'm onto something when I'm not sure if what I'm doing is really art. Not that what I'm doing is something entirely new, invented, or essentially unique but it is somehow "other."
And so I find myself drawn to music which is not easily identified as belonging to one genre or another. Artists like The Books, Liars, Microphones, Dizzee Rascal, Will Oldham and, until recently, Animal Collective practice a brand of stand-alone artfulness that stretches ideas about one genre or, at times, invents a new one. This separation from an establish code can create a sense of gravity, allowing artists to slowly draw other like bodies into ever shrinking orbits around them until they are part of the same system. They radiate heat and energy while absorbing matter, growing in mass and weight. If the artful "other" gets me then the gravity keeps me there.
Animal Collective have, in indie terms, gone supernova, spinning off loose electrons and repelling all matter in a conscious effort to become the emptiness of cold, bright light itself - less than zero, never there. Songs swirl, chant and keen to themselves with directionless energy, moving ever outside the bounds of gravity or meaning. And therefore away from me. Sure, other bands are following suit and the kids seem to dig it, but I'm done.
Merriweather Post Pavilion finally gives a name to the generational chasm I have until now been reluctant to acknowledge and across which I cannot easily reach. More importantly I don't really want to. I'm quite happy on my side obeying the laws of gravity and time with some earth beneath my feet.
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