Hang on, so it’s not a reimagining of the Weird Al cover of “Like a Virgin”?
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[7.80]
Alex Ostroff: “Surgeon” opens with a gorgeous blur of swirling voices and synthesizers, seemingly singing Dean Martin’s “That’s Amore” through a haze of nitrous oxide as the listener descends into sleep. Piercing through the fog is Annie Clark’s clear, calm voice. She dances back and forth from illness to eroticism, transforming “I spent the summer on my back” into an expression of vulnerability, and “come cut me open” into a come-on. The ascending guitar figure grows more frantic with her pleas, resolving into something genuinely funky — the one adjective I never would have dreamed to apply to St. Vincent before now. Clark has already proven herself to be a formidable talent; if this is her latest bag of tricks, we’re in for a treat.
[8]
Alfred Soto: The squealing Eno-derived tape effects into which this song devolves is the year’s most hair-raising novelty. But Annie Clark’s femme-mystique vocal, which the singer no doubt thought would contrast the anarchy of the track’s last half, just sits there refusing to turn into Bryan Ferry.
[6]
Andrew Casillas: The first minute or so of this track sputters a bit in execution — I can’t tell whether she’s supposed to exude personality or anxiety. But once that keyboard solo peeks its head past the curtain, everything begins to melt. The lyrics take a backseat to the sonic flourishes, her vocal neatly fits into the overall exterior, and then the whole thing shakes up into a quasi-avant garde spasm. Best of all: it’s pretty fun.
[8]
Brad Shoup: Sonic similarities aside, this ought to get Annie Clark an entry in the James Bond Theme sweepstakes. But I’m sure — or I’m hoping — the most-discussed bit of this single will be the jazz-funk nugget that erupts into a full-force jam for the last minute or so. One can only hope Clark’s critics and fans will stomach swapping Bush for Bird. Even with a proper introduction, the fusion bit still rests a little uneasily with the gauzy beginning, but for a funk nut and a fan of left turns, this is extremely promising stuff.
[9]
Edward Okulicz: I’m being mean here, but this sounds so much like “At The River” by Groove Armada to me that even the floating Bond-theme strings code as chill more than edge.
[6]
Erick Bieritz: Most of “Actor Out of Work” could have been mistaken for any of the female-fronted Broken Social Scene affiliates, but there were some minor flourishes that suggested something more than just indie rock, and those flourishes run wild here as St. Vincent releases her inner Eno with woozy Tiger Mountain strings, thin squealing solos and fuzzy bass farts. Why should an artist wait for someone exciting to do this as a remix when they can just be exciting themselves?
[8]
Jonathan Bogart: I don’t know why all the blog-approved indie stars suddenly sound like they’re aiming to be playlisted on adult-contemporary radio in 1984 (then twitching gracefully away from that fate with overlays of melancholic noise), but I hope it never stops.
[9]
Katherine St Asaph: The (synth? instrument? roaring squeal?) that closes the song is shudderingly perfect. That a pleasant few minutes drift their way to it is all the better.
[9]
Michaela Drapes: Welcome to Annie Clark’s fairy tale world, located somewhere adjacent to the domains of Goldfrapp, the Cocteau Twins and (yes, really) Danielle Dax. And the national anthem is intergalactic white girl nerd funk, the musical version of Angela Carter’s novels or Leonora Carrington’s paintings or Maya Deren’s films. Where plodding basslines are enchanted to duel with scribbling, wailing guitars, exploding universes and leaving swirling hot nebulae in their wake: White hot, dazzling, and terribly lonely.
[9]
Zach Lyon: Such awesome momentum killed every time the surgeon comes back with those dinkling guitar drips, but I guess you can’t expect the indie kids to consider something like that when they start the prog single period of their careers.
[6]