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Metric, 'Synthetica': Distilling a Decade of War, Collapse and Post-Millennial Tension
- Posted on Jun 12th 2012 2:00PM by Joshua Ostroff
Justin Broadbent
Of course, as the street pulled itself together, the rest of the world fell apart.
Needless to say, it's a poetically perfect place to find Metric's Giant Studios -- where they recorded their latest longplayer Synthetica -- considering the band's own rise over the same time span from a band of broken dreams to wildly popular and wildly independent success by chronicling the past decade's global turmoil.
If the band's career reflects the place they returned to in the fall of 2001, their music, from 2003's Old World Underground, Where Are You Now? onward, has mirrored the times we've all lived through -- beginning with their flight back home after a pair of towers fell in their previous Lower Manhattan 'hood.
"Old World was just straight-up pissed-off with no reverb," lead singer Emily Haines tells Spinner, "and I was personally miserable at that time because my dad died the day we finished Old World and then I went on tour."
On the road, Haines would go on increasingly dark digressions during "Dead Disco," a song that featured a different rant each night, culminating in a legendary 24-minute anti-Iraq War epic from 2004.
"One hundred thousand. Why are you cheering? What does that number mean to you? One hundred thousand innocent fucking people are dead in Iraq. One hundred thousand. That's a big number, that's our big, big, BIG number. One hundred thousand little bodies."
During a time when the trauma in the air was rarely reaching the recording studio, much less concert venues and radio, Metric were railing against succsexy invasions and the mindless consumerism the underwrote them.
Live it Out, released a year into Bush's second term, was less shocked by the Terror Era, but as heard on songs like "Monster Hospital," far angrier. Then, at the tail end of 2008, Metric crawled out of the rubble with single "Help I'm Alive" and released their most optimistic record yet in Fantasies. (Albeit one that still contained the savage '"Gold, Guns, Girls," which fed off the financial crisis with its refrain "Is it ever gonna be enough?")
"With Fantasies arriving with the Obama administration, it's like this is our time where we can stop addressing political issues and release like the only non-political Metric record ever made," Haines smiles.
"But you know, we're back in the fight for sure."
Indeed, Metric's almost eerie sense of the zeitgeist continued with the May Day release of Synthetica's first single "Youth Without Youth." Though initially sketched out at the tail-end of the Fantasies era, it echoed the violence of last summer's London Riots even as it arrived on the very day young protestors headed back out into the streets to clash with police around the world, including Montreal.
In a commentary track about the song posted in mid-April, Haines reflected the concerns of student protestors at home and abroad. "You're born free," she said, "but still, that $250 grand in student debt really gets in the way of your ability to thrive, in the sense that the older generation is kinda selling out the younger generation.
"It's as though it followed the trajectory of what we've seen happening in the socio-political realm of the world with young people," she now says. "As the song came out, this movement or whatever we're calling it, was becoming a phenomenon."
With its lyrical pairing of childhood games against imagery of vandalism, arson and hand grenades, the song is about a society slouching toward dystopia as seen though the eyes of its increasingly hopeless young trapped by debt and abandoned by austerity.
"The stakes are so much higher for younger kids now," Haines said, adding the song finally come together "basically simultaneous with this Occupy in New York and from that point forward it's been like we have this anthem that's sort of a crystal ball."
Watch Metric's "Youth Without Youth" Video
Get More: Metric, Youth Without Youth, Music, More Music Videos
Synthetica begins with Haines cooing "I'm just as fucked up as they say" on the song "Artificial Nocturne." It's clear this album, like this world, lacks the shiny optimism that 2008 ushered in. But it also has the wind at its back. As the beats kicks in -- a sleazy glam-rock schaffel beat on "Youth Without Youth," no less -- and the widescreen synths shoot for the sky, it seems to say the Bush-era barbarians may have returned, but we're not going to roll over this time. So consider Synthetica a synthesis of their past three records and a synthesis of the past 10 years.
"There's no need for an angry record from Metric right now," says Haines. "I don't actually think anger is going to work for any of this actually. We need energy and that's the one thing I've always felt we were never able to bring -- so that's what we brought."
Indeed, by third song "Speed the Collapse" Haines is looking at the destruction wreaked by the Great Recession as opportunity. We may have looked the other way as our neighbor's house collapsed until the storm was overhead, she sings, but the apocalyptic imagery of boiling oceans and blood-red rivers soon gives way to the notion that "The wind presents a change of course/A second reckoning of sorts."
Rather than taking the over-obvious Bruce Springsteen route and ranting about the fat cats up on Banker Hill, Haines' lyrics honed during globe-hopping jaunts from Spain to Argentina to Occupy Wall Street's Zucotti Park, all sites of unrest, manage to subtly distill the current crises and remind us why we fight.
Metric's ability to see a light at the end of this dark tunnel comes from their own experience, having abandoned even the indie label route to self-release their music and become their own masters.
"That's another element that there's this sort of shift in energy or spirit," says Haines. "That feeling that you're constantly straining against the system that you don't believe in and can't thrive in. I mean, again, this is on a large scale of what people around the world are feeling. The system is not working for most people. On a micro level, that's how I felt in the music business. I just felt every single step of the way was a battle and to be freed of that is just so great."
Even so, she does doubt herself in "Dreams So Real," a song named after a poem by her late father Paul Haines that she describes as the "heart of the record."
"Thought I made a stand/only made a scene," Haines sings, sadly. "Have I ever really helped anyone but myself/To believe in the power of songs?/To believe in the power of girls?"
Haines concern is that Metric's least political work, Fantasies, was the one that sold a half-million copies and broke them through.
"We were finally rewarded when I shut the fuck up, which was a much more palatable version of me for everyone to handle," she says. "So yeah, it's like shut up and carry on, a scream becomes a yawn, and that's what people would rather hear. Which, of course, by the record, you can tell I didn't proceed into."
Instead she proceeded into and beyond the collapse. The album's last song, raised by buoyant synths, serves as a reminder that even if the end is nigh, it simply heralds a new beginning.
"I wanted to be part of something," she sings, this time with hope. "I got nothing but time. So the future is mine."
Rather than taking the over-obvious Bruce Springsteen route and ranting about the fat cats up on Banker Hill, Haines' lyrics honed during globe-hopping jaunts from Spain to Argentina to Occupy Wall Street's Zucotti Park, all sites of unrest, manage to subtly distill the current crises and remind us why we fight.
Metric's ability to see a light at the end of this dark tunnel comes from their own experience, having abandoned even the indie label route to self-release their music and become their own masters.
"That's another element that there's this sort of shift in energy or spirit," says Haines. "That feeling that you're constantly straining against the system that you don't believe in and can't thrive in. I mean, again, this is on a large scale of what people around the world are feeling. The system is not working for most people. On a micro level, that's how I felt in the music business. I just felt every single step of the way was a battle and to be freed of that is just so great."
Even so, she does doubt herself in "Dreams So Real," a song named after a poem by her late father Paul Haines that she describes as the "heart of the record."
"Thought I made a stand/only made a scene," Haines sings, sadly. "Have I ever really helped anyone but myself/To believe in the power of songs?/To believe in the power of girls?"
Haines concern is that Metric's least political work, Fantasies, was the one that sold a half-million copies and broke them through.
"We were finally rewarded when I shut the fuck up, which was a much more palatable version of me for everyone to handle," she says. "So yeah, it's like shut up and carry on, a scream becomes a yawn, and that's what people would rather hear. Which, of course, by the record, you can tell I didn't proceed into."
Instead she proceeded into and beyond the collapse. The album's last song, raised by buoyant synths, serves as a reminder that even if the end is nigh, it simply heralds a new beginning.
"I wanted to be part of something," she sings, this time with hope. "I got nothing but time. So the future is mine."
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