ALBUM OF THE MONTH: October
Back from the brink, one of the Girls.
It seems like every band I loved from a decade ago is coming back this year, albeit to mixed fanfare.
Japandroids, whose Celebration Rock is one of my favorite rock records of the 2010s, released a depressing, hollow ‘final record’ titled Fate & Alcohol. It sounds exactly like the mid-life crisis the title evokes.
Meanwhile, for the past two years, indie R&B siren Autre Ne Veut has been drip feeding singles after dropping off the face of the earth in 2015. With every single, my anticipation for his comeback album (LOVE, GUESS WHO?? (XXOOXX) dropping this Friday, Nov. 1!) has grown.
Most shocking, however, is the return of Christopher Owens, the surviving member of the indie rock band Girls.
In just two albums and a single ep, Girls forever etched their way into my heart. With Owen’s trademark 1950s style croon, the ever expanding genre experiments, and the production wizardry that gave each release character and charm, Girls was a special band.
In 2012, at the height of their star-power, they shockingly broke up. Owens went onto release a series of solo LPs, none of which reached the same fever pitch. I gave them cursory listens but nothing hit for me.
His last release, Chrissybaby Forever, was in 2015.
In the years since, Owens has suffered a terrible motorcycle accident, had a fiancé leave him, and, to help his dire financial situation, tried to stage a Girls reunion only to have it tragically cut short: Chet ‘JR’ White, the other half of Girls, suddenly passed away at just 40 years old.
And now, almost a decade later, we have Owens’ comeback record I Wanna Run Barefoot Through Your Hair. It’s a marvel Owens still makes music at all. (Blessedly, Owens is also happily married, recovered from his accident, and financially stable outside of his music career.)
The story behind I Want to Run Barefoot Through Your Hair reminds me of another album borne from impossible circumstances* and pain: Javelin, Sufjan Stevens’ album from last year. Both artists went through unbelievable strife and loss, yet they managed to process that pain into something profound and healing.
*A note: to be clear, I don’t think anyone needs profound pain to make powerful music (see: Tiger’s Blood). I did find it important to give context on the circumstances that influenced Owens prior to making this album.
Back in July, before I knew any of that, before any deep dive into his life, I listened to lead single ‘I Think About Heaven’. I wasn’t expecting much- as I said, I had already written Owens’ solo career off. That said, my fears were quickly assuaged: lead guitarist (and the album’s secret weapon) Derek Barber lays down surfy guitars that feel organic and improvisational, harkening back to what drew me to Girls in the first place. Similarly, Owens delivers lyrical gut-punches in an aching, off-the-cuff ramble.
A favorite passage:
‘My soul cries out for the one I love/
They laugh at me saying where is your love?/
They laugh to my face saying where is your love?/
My tears have been by me both day and night/
Until I see you, what good is my sight?/
Until I see you, what good is my eyesight?’
Then, however, the chorus hit… the ‘Las’. To me, they were a blemish on an otherwise pretty outstanding comeback. They felt corny, forced, a reminder that when left to his own devices, Owens really conjures up some cringe. ‘Ugh,’ I thought, ‘Another let down from one of my former-faves. So close to a perfect song.’
In the context of the album, hell, in the context of what I know now about Christopher Owen’s life the ‘Las’ hit different. What once sounded forced now sounds like the ‘spell of love’ he sings about: a summoning of the smile that comes when he thinks about heaven and the people who went there far too soon.
I have a soft spot for endings. Across all art forms, I find that sticking a landing is incredibly challenging and so I give great reverence to artists that pull it off. While not every album I’ve reviewed this year ends on a high note, there are a couple notable ones on my radar.
I will be adding album closer ‘Do You Need a Friend’ to the list. It’s another entry into Owens’ ledger of slow burning epics that sound as muscular as they are delicate. We’ve heard him pull this off before: ‘Vomit’ and ‘Hellhole Ratrace’ transformed soft balladry into all consuming invitations by their climaxes.
‘Do You Need a Friend’ similarly opens with a soft, upbeat, Americana instrumentation. Owens sings about the need to buck up and smile after all the tears he’s cried, a motif that runs throughout much of the album.
At just two minutes and twenty five seconds (into a seven minute song, mind you), the song screeches to a slower, fuzzed out tempo and we hear a devastating admission:
‘If you really wanna know/
I'm barely making it through the days’
My dear readers, that lyric is repeated eight times and is only broken up by this couplet:
‘People come and people go/
But the loneliness is always the same’
In the final moments of the record, over a crescendoing ocean of beautiful noise, Owens takes his own advice and releases his sorrow, a final bid for connection. He drops his smile, his mask, and dares to show us the loneliness that has been lurking inside him all along.
And this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen his mask drop.
Story time.
A top five concert of my life was actually a Girls concert. It was at Bowery Ballroom, my favorite Manhattan venue (and also where I took my now fiancé to see Ethel Cain for our second date. It’s charged, okay?).
I went solo, as I often did in those days. I cannot remember the opener but I do vividly remember a taller hipster reading a book next to me. I don’t know who made first contact but during the set changeover, he asked me if I wanted to hear one of the Irish Poems in the book. I said yes, and he read me a poem about drowning puppies, I think. Girls brought out some real freaks, myself included.
When the Girls crew started their soundcheck, the roadies put bouquets of flowers on all of the microphone stands. It was simple, elegant, and perfect.
I was in the front row, as I always was, and Girls started playing. It was right after Father, Son, Holy Ghost, their exquisite final album, dropped. I knew all of the words, I was feeling it deeply. The band had recently added many touring members and they sounded massive. I felt like a little stone in an ocean, constantly crashing and riding the twin waves of music and audience.
During the set, Owens’ scraggly mop of blonde hair kept falling into his face as he futzed with his pedals. Being the open heart I am, I offered my beanie to him multiple times to keep his hair out of his face. I was that close. He smiled coyly and declined multiple times, I smiled coyly at the acknowledgement. The hair remained in his face.
The set ended, encore played, and the band began to exit to rapturous applause. Owens was the last leaving the stage and, right before he made it to the wings, he stopped and made his way back to his microphone.
He removed his bouquet and began to hand it to the crowd. He then, I shit you not, bat people’s hands away and gave them directly to me.
Directly to me.
His hair was out of his face, we made eye contact and he gave me a bouquet of flowers.
I blacked out.
The next thing I remember was hearing two sweet femmes behind me say “Oh, I’m glad he gave them to you. You deserve it.”
I exited the venue floating. I had my flowers, much better than the usual setlist or drumstick I secured from shows, and went to a house party. I was so overjoyed it didn’t even bother me that my massive crush was outside with her massive crush, leaving the party. Who cares? I had a story to tell, I had flowers to give. (While I did hand out some at the party, my earnest ass self did press some of the petals into the back of my copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. Oh, to be young.)
Fifteen years into making music, Christopher Owens still has flowers to give, cultivated from a garden manured with hardship and watered with love.
(A quick shout-out to producer (landscaper? I’m stretching the metaphor to its limit here) Doug Boehm who arranges these flowers to sound lush and incredible. He also produced all of the Girls records; this is a clear artistic match made in heaven).
Listening to I Wanna Run Barefoot Through Your Hair, I’m once again in the front row looking into a pair of sad eyes that, every so often, flash with a kindness that lights up my world, a flash that brings smiles and tears in equal measure.
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I was touched to almost tears reading your "story". I could almost put myself in the moment because you so vividly wrote what transpired. You do deserve the flowers for so many things you are my sonny.