Tune-Yards Wrestles With Identity on “I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life”
I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life is the fourth LP released by art pop group Tune-Yards. The band consists of Merrill Garbus, singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, and Nate Brenner, co-writer, producer, and bass guitarist. Tune-Yards’ music is characterized by sticky, almost nonsensical rhythms. Digging deeper yields troubling messages and imagery. I would describe Tune-Yards’ music as less “pop” and more “modern take on the nursery rhyme”. It is unassuming and unsettling.
I came into this album as a fan of Tune-Yards, but admittedly not their deeper cuts. I’d given dozens of listens to each of the more up-beat tracks on their second and third albums, Whokill and Nikki Nack. I saw the group as producers of bizarre, intoxicating dance and pop tracks. In preparation for I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life, I spent more time with their previous records, which led to a realization: these up-beat tracks were the exception, not the rule. The majority of Tune-Yards’ discography is not the maximalist experience that is Whokill’s “Gangsta”. Their music is eerie, claustrophobic, eyebrow-raising, and explicitly political. With that in mind, I was ready to lend an ear to their newest project.
I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life is not as great a departure as some critics would have you believe. Tracks like “ABC 123” and “Hammer” immediately entered my general musical rotation. They are confident, hypnotic, and alluring from the first listen, perfectly balancing repetition with tantalizing vocal flourish. “ABC 123” sounds basic upon first listen, but there’s a surprising amount of lyrical variation, including mentions of the California wildfires of 2017, a “pre-polluted fetus”, and the NSA. “Hammer” indulges, to great success, in more murky concepts. Each verse tells its own story of deception, while remaining opaque and mysterious. These songs function as the album’s anchors, propping up the headier, more experimental material.
This may be Tune-Yards’ most sonically mature album yet. Garbus has moderated her vocal experimentation while still preserving those yelps and shrieks that make her such a unique vocalist. The power behind the modified chorus in “Look At Your Hands” helps to create one of my favorite moments on the album. The group has also taken new risks in sound and rhythm. The MIDI vocal effects in “Honesty” are a highlight, pushing the envelope just far enough. On the more somber side, I was impressed with “Who Are You”, which sets aside the group’s tendency to startle the listener, drawing me into contemplation with its bold synthesizer and lulling saxophone.
It would be a mistake to write about this album but avoid its central theme: identity politics. Garbus’ message could be boiled down to “I am white, and that has a lot of baggage.” At times, the album is apologetic. At others it is self-effacing. It even occasionally droops into resignation. I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life is a lot of things, but almost all of them involve whiteness. Despite this, the project is far from didactic. Garbus takes great effort to atone for her own sins before casting blame on anyone else.
In an interview with NPR, she had this to say about the eighth track, Home.
The lyrics “She’s a fool….” I had a friend say, it should be, “He’s a fool — this is the time for he’s a fool!” And that’s easier to sing — my voice teacher pointed that out. “Ha” is easier than “sha.” But it’s definitely me [in the lyric]. If I own what I’m foolish about in the beginning of the song then maybe by the end I get to own the lyric, “You’re not telling my story, man.”
I have a nasty habit of giving flawed albums a pass once I spot the deeper message. I want to hear each piece of art through the ear of the creator. After all, my perspective is limited, and why listen to music if not to learn? Unfortunately, art must still be judged by some standards, as subjective as they may be. The question before me is not “Does Tune-Yards’ newest album talk about something important?” It is “Does Tune-Yards’ newest album provide an interesting or new perspective on its topic within the context of a well-executed musical project?”
The album’s bombastic hits drew me in immediately. The opening triad of “Heart Attack”, “Coast to Coast”, and “ABC 123” rivals the memorable entry sequence of Whokill. “Hammer” lends the album a second wind and transitions seamlessly into “Who Are You”, which is by far my favorite of the calmer tracks. It carries forward the energy of “Hammer” without the freneticism. The track instead settles into a meditative state of wistfulness, longing, and musing. Throw in “Look At Your Hands”, and we’re left with half a dozen songs that would have made an excellent EP.
Unfortunately, consistency is otherwise lacking. Tracks like “Now As Then” refuse to settle into a rhythm, preferring to startle and challenge the listener. Little exists beneath the song’s surface. Its lyrics are on-the-nose to the point of comedy, and the opening comes across as self-indulgent and shallow. I appreciate the attempt to convey cognitive dissonance through bare-bones lyricism and instrumentation, but it falls flat in practice. The chorus is also weak, promising to build to an exhilarating high but failing to follow through. A few components nearly rescue the track. The refrain of “Don’t trust me/That I won’t take all the money and run!” distracts from the song’s unfocused rambling with its vulnerability. “I don’t wanna be a woman/If it means not being human!” is an equally honest moment and vocal high, but these positives aren’t quite enough.
“Colonizer” will be divisive. The track focuses on anecdotes that convey subtle results of white supremacy. These are microaggressions, dangerous but easy to ignore. The track is menacing, with dark, glitchy instrumentation and a robotic chorus. The repetition of “I smell the blood in my voice” is the track’s high point, artistically expressing personal culpability for complicity in this world. Like “Now As Then”, “Colonizer” is one-dimensional. In a political sphere of great uncertainty, Garbus may feel the need to ring out a clear message of dissent. Calling attention to the sad state of affairs is admirable, but with lyrics and instrumentation approaching melodrama, the song is not challenging, thought-provoking, or enjoyable.
Other moments also fall short, although not to the same degree. “Home” is an interlude between two high-energy tracks, “Look At Your Hands” and “Hammer”, but it’s little more than an interruption. Its choral segments are too stagnant to keep my attention, and the final breakdown distracts from the opening of “Hammer” more than it adds. “Free” is an intriguing closer for its message. Garbus is both free as a white woman (free in her privilege) and experiencing the catharsis of “unpacking” her whiteness (free from her privilege). The final moments loop back to “Heart Attack”, conveying Garbus’ commitment to being more conscious of her actions. Despite these strong points, the fuzzed-out instrumentals fail to develop throughout the track, ending the album on another stagnant note.
All told, I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life is a mixed bag. Several of its tracks join the ranks of the group’s best material, but they’re often sullied by momentum-killers and high-concept experiments that fall flat. Typically, an album like this would also lack cohesion, but that’s not the case here. Its structure is best exemplified by “Honesty”: this album is a meditation. It is a work in progress. Garbus is still grappling with her place in society, and that shows. There are points where this self-discovery comes through with nuance and vulnerability. I hope Tune-Yards creates another political album someday, one where they can express these ideas more consistently.
I rate “I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life” a 6-/10.
I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life was released by 4AD records and is also available on iTunes, Google Play Music, and major streaming sources.
