Pretty excited for Wally on Triple J in the next few minutes!

Preparing to swoon.

mssmarticus asked: Jess, you're enabling my not-going-to-bed with this gratuitous Gotye stuff! I can't say I'm upset though.

I fell into a never ending Gotye YouTube interview spiral! I’m not sorry either.

“…the point where the songcraft really becomes special, is the introduction of Kimbra. Up until she starts singing the third verse, De Backer’s male character scans as self-centred and searching; lost in his own emotions. He talks about how he “felt so lonely in her company”, and is glad the relationship is over, before the chorus unleashes his anger at their split. There’s little consideration for the object of his hurt, or why they might have failed to connect. He suggests it’s her fault. Kimbra then, returns the salvo; playing the part of the now-missing-in-action ex returning to have her say.

Kimbra’s character enters the scene with “Now and then I think about all the times you screwed me over / but made me think that it was something I had done”, abruptly shifting the complexion of the song. To this point Gotye had us believing he was the victim. But it’s difficult now — armed with this new information — to blame Kimbra’s character for repelling this emotionally manipulative lover. And thus it becomes clear that both are unreliable narrators, the two singers singing from the perspective of hurt characters — complex humans regressed to raw emotions. Here then, the Mellotron flute sound enters the mix while Kimbra sings, showing a subtle indication that Gotye (the producer/writer) intends for you to feel Kimbra’s side of the argument is perhaps correct—or at least, of brooding significance; the Mellotron has a breathy, airy sound with nostalgic overtones, and it’s a stark contrast to the rest of the percussive instruments in the song – xylophones, guitar strings and percussion – which all sound like they’ve been hit or plucked. To hear that breath of air during her verse, and nowhere else, makes her points sound soothing, more reasonable.

Kimbra’s verse builds to the emotional peak of the song. Halfway through her short section, a static, one note bass line enters the mix, which alters the landscape of the song once more, ratcheting up the tension again. As it builds, the sound of Kimbra’s voice changes, becomes harsher and angrier; until the music pauses, and she belts out — unexpectedly — the chorus hook. But it’s a stooge — the real climax is when Gotye re-enters the frame, cutting off Kimbra’s verse by singing “you didn’t have to cut me off”. In re-addressing the issue in real time during the song, the duo are cleverly replaying the same conflicts that split them apart in the first place. And though he’s singing the same lyrics as in the previous chorus, the emotional heft is now different. In the first chorus, the listener gives the male character benefit of the doubt about his feeling aggrieved that he’s no longer friends with his ex; here, after hearing her side of the story, his complaints sound hollow; we have pity for him rather than empathy. And in this narrative use — these dueling narrators — Gotye (the artist) has achieved a high-watermark in his pop song-making; he allows the listener to feel like they’re deducing the story for themselves.”

It is a damn good song, no matter how many times it’s been played. Now can all of you with your “but it’s not even that good?!” just shush and let me love it in peace, exactly as I would have had it been as insignificant as anything from Boardface, and exactly as I am in the face of its enormous success.

(Proof? I blogged about it 5 days after its release. You’re welcome.)

(Source: thevine.com.au)