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“Hello, my name’s Matthew Dear and I’m from New York.”
This is the first thing Matthew Dear said when I saw him once, and he then went on to say it over and over again, in everything he did and every move he made. He’s someone who’s so obviously aware of how cool he is, and this I normally despise. Loads of Matthew Dear’s “Matthew Dear” stuff is weak, as opposed to the much higher standard you find in Audion.
‘I Can’t Feel’, from new album Black City shuffles on and on throughout its duration; an incessant rhythmic stutter while everything else hovers inattentively above. Bass pops, organ chords and synth widdles come and go, but the stuttering remains a constant. Matthew comes in whispering, effeminate and hushed. Then that croaking, seeping voice starts, like it did on ‘Pom Pom’ from Asa Breed when he goes “I’ve got to figure out love!” in the voice of a dying whale and suddenly everything is good. He sounds sad and evil, or terminally ill. What’s good about some Matthew Dear stuff is that he’s aware of how easy it is to be typical in pop music, but also how unavoidable it is, and he often sounds sick of it, so disappointed that he’s fallen into the realms of predictability, both lyrical and sentimental.
But the reason a lot of pop is stereotypical is because it resembles the events it talks about, which are always repetitive but unavoidable. Relationships are the same for everyone, and Matthew Dear knows this, and hates it, but writes about it all the same. Kinda like James Murphy, I guess, but Dear doesn’t find it funny. And that voice, which is always the most interesting thing in a Matthew Dear song, expresses frustration at this but also acceptance, and a knowledge that nothing else could be the case. He sounds so sick of it all.
Fancying people is predictable, old-hat and really quite boring to talk about, and the track’s called ‘I Can’t Feel’ for a reason. If everyone’s experience of this stuff is the same, is Matthew really feeling anything? Well, yes, is the answer, and buck up. But the song’s good. Focus on that.
James Hampson