Hidden Cameras
Issue #29
Awoo (Arts & Crafts)
By John Everhart
Published: September 1st, 2006 | 12:00am
Hidden Cameras have differentiated themselves from the legions of Belle & Sebastian and Magnetic Fields acolytes through their sheer recklessness: a willingness to push the boundaries of indie rock’s largely asexual milieu with brazenly homoerotic examinations of sexuality. It hasn’t hurt that they’ve also crafted some of the loveliest Spector Wall of Sound–infused pop gems of the past decade, especially on their excellent 2003 debut, The Smell of Our Own. On Awoo, they largely eschew the ornate arrangements, stripping the songs to their melodic core with an urgency that recalls the great New Zealand pop acts the Chills and Tall Dwarfs.
The record begins with a resolute bang. The adrenalized rush of “Death of a Tune” and the spastic hyper-jangle of “She’s Gone” both jettison the lapidary of Cameras’ past, thus placing the emphasis squarely on frontman Joel Gibb’s sonorous baritone and weaving melodies to frame his often licentious lyrics. He waxes politically flippant on “Hump to Bend,” drolly intoning, “And maybe with my indolence, and your suffering, we’ll grow a meaty hump to support the kids.” Gross, but somehow brilliant in a garish John Waters sort of way.
It’s not until the closing, aching xylophone-led ballad “The Waning Moon” that Gibb finally comes clean with his desire. He spills his guts out as he abjectly croons, “Hold onto me as we fall away / Plunge into blue and have a crutch or two / As the moon wanes away,” exhibiting a pensive lyric clarity usually reserved for the rarified likes of Stuart Murdoch and Morrissey. It’s wittily self-aware moments like these that render Awoo such a thoroughly beguiling listen.
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