St. Vincent – Daddy’s Home review

It’s hard to escape the notion that Annie Clark recently has been from a media perspective heading towards the Del Rey zone (Ok, that’s a made up term), a space where a slightly obtuse public image is turned cynically by a hostile press into a full blown personality disorder.

It’s very true for balance that she hasn’t helped herself, treating the promotion cycle with disdain in the past, playing stock answers in interviews if she didn’t think the questions were interesting enough and getting into an unnecessary spat with a journalist over what turned out to be a fairly benign 2019 Q&A.

Daddy’s Home however has been backed with nothing short of a charm offensive akin to carpet bombing; an album around the complicated ties that bind, it’s title is a reference to her father, imprisoned for over a decade for stock market fraud and recently set free. Even then, when you’re in the Del Rey zone, things can go bad. As an illustration, in interviews Clark has been drawing attention to the gross disparity in American incarceration ratios between races, only to then face accusations of Lana-esque white privileged insincerity.

Daddy’s Home is as flawed as any human-to-human relationship. Steeped in a late 70’s miasma of soul, soft rock and sleaze, Clark has the go-anywhere temerity to exhume the legacy of Scottish starlet Sheena Easton on My Baby Wants A Baby, whilst the title track effortlessly folds in Steely Dan’s louche FM grooves. The clipped, synthetic art-pop of Masseduction this is not. But Somebody Like Me and ..At The Holiday Party make an awkward star easy to touch and are very much songs to hug, just like a parolee.

You can read the full review here.