Catcall
The Warmest Place
Catcall’s ‘The Warmest Place’ is a timely reminder of why we loved pop music so much in the first place, writes CAITLIN WELSH.
As a female fan of pop music or a pop music fan who is also a fan of women, it’s been a largely heartening century so far. For every gross character like Brian McFadden or Chris Brown, there are the Robyns, Washingtons, Santigolds, Beyonces, Florences and, yes, Adeles, who perform variously with strength, subtlety, subversiveness, self-assurance and shit-kicking glee. But if you apply a sort of Bechdel test to pop music, it doesn’t fare much better than Hollywood does.
Pop musicians devote an inordinate amount of time to talking about their love lives, because the shorthands are already in place, and it’s also one of the easiest things to write a song about because nothing encourages self-indulgent art like self-pity, and nothing encourages self-pity like problems with your love life. It means that female musicians spend a lot of time pining after or berating men, which is a natural and useful function of pop music, but can get exhausting if you think about it for too long.
"If you want only for songs to be blisteringly verbose narratives of sadness and retribution, go nurse your copy of 'Strange Tourist' and leave us here to dance."
And here you have a smart, fun pop record with emotional depth and resonance that deals with other things as well bemoaning and celebrating romantic misadventures, and whose appeal only broadens and deepens upon thinking about it, as well as listening to it. Catherine Kelleher writes songs about grief and loss, independence and friendship, and indirectly, about pop music itself. The Warmest Place, a long-awaited and long-in-the-making debut, appears to have been made entirely on her own terms.
Some of these songs are years old – most notably the title track, an a capella number Kelleher first performed on stage as frontwoman of Kiosk, not long after her father’s sudden death. Her voice, forthright and unadorned except for the hall-of-mirrors multi-tracking, cracks very slightly. She sounds strong and hopeful, but longs for an unattainable closure: “Tell me you’re there in that warm place”. It leads directly into ‘August’, an expanded riff on the same song and idea, written a year later. The production is a discomfiting blend of chiming, metallic sounds that catch the light and dogged, dank drums that echo off the walls. Kelleher sings in that same determined fashion, the notes long and unwavering (no melisma or even much vibrato), echoing the just-push-forward aesthetic of the intro. Kelleher’s punk background has followed her into pop – her voice, lacking the gloss and drama of a classic pop diva, shrugs and belts it anyway.
Catcall - August by Ivy League Records
Kelleher considers no territory out of bounds. The breathy, ’90s R&B-club tension of ‘Paralysed’ shouldn’t work nearly as well as it does. Sandwiched between two brash, sunny pop songs, it sounds like a misplaced bit of “edgy” filler on the backend of the second Spice Girls album, but it’s built on suggestive, layered exhalations of various sizes then knit together gorgeously near the end. ‘Swimming Pool’ -- M+N’s track of year for 2010 – remains a standout. I remain strong in my conviction that the word “nipples” should never be used in a pop song, but the imagery is vivid and the groove undeniable. ‘I’m In Love With A German Film Star’ is a cute, dreamy coda, and it feels right to tack it on at the end, having travelled from the grief of the title track to Kelleher repeating, “I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love”. It might be a cover, but even going through the motions can help you be ready for the real thing.
Catcall - Paralysed by Ivy League Records
‘Art Star’ rides on a strutting beat, a barely-there cowbell, a Prince guitar lick that flickers like a neon sign and Kelleher laying down the law with more sass than a shoulder-padded booty girl in a new jack swing video clip. “I told my girlfriends/Your name/They said they’d seen you/And you got no game,” she informs some unfortunate d-bag, before biting out the finger-wagging chorus: “Grow up.” While at first it’s uncomfortably reminiscent of Blondie’s ‘Rapture’, Kelleher spits out lines like, “My name is acid/I’ll rain on your parade” with more insouciance and ease (and, crucially, rhythm) than Debbie Harry’s self-conscious flow. What sounds like a slightly daggy, self-conscious pastiche track is ultimately carried off by Kelleher’s moxie, and the fact it’s exactly the kind of ultra-white New Wave cheese-funk that would put its affected, superior subject right off.
Catcall - Art Star by Ivy League Records
The lyrics are not always the most nuanced, but it’s not an issue if you’re the kind of listener who can get past or even revel in commonplaces like, “You know that I love you/You know that we are true” and “That girl is so amazing/Sunlight in the pouring rain.” I wouldn’t take that shit from Diane Warren or whatever lowest-common-denominator MOR songwriter wins all the Grammys these days, but when Kelleher is repeating them in your ear, it just feels like the simplest way to say what she means. But, hey, if you want only for songs to be blisteringly verbose narratives of sadness and retribution, go nurse your copy of Strange Tourist and leave us here to dance.
She’s come a long way since the learn-as-we-go teenage riot of Kiosk, and has worked hard to gain confidence as a vocalist, but there’s definitely a hint of her garage roots in the defiantly natural timbre. There are recurring references to bareness and naked skin on this record, and it never feels like Kelleher and her many producers are trying to hide or obfuscate anything in the playful arrangements. On the contrary. This is heart-on-sleeve, ears-in-adolescence pop, where every tired pop trope has been fished from the dustbin and carefully reconstructed to remind you why you liked it so much when you were less cynical.
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Is the title a reference to genitalia?
Well, she's a woman, so obviously all her songs are about vaginas.
“‘THE WARMEST PLACE’ is what I feel when I listen to music that makes me happy, when I listen to music that is really giving and unpretentious. But it’s subject to interpretation for everybody; it can be heaven, your bed, your bed tangled up in someone’s body, an island, sex, love, a summer’s day, a womb, a cup of tea, freshly baked bread… anything that brings comfort. I want this album to be comfort food and to keep people warm.”
August is a great tune.
if you replace 'music' with 'vagina' that quote still makes sense
Oh...don't ever compare her to Washingtons, please.
been listening to this a lot
what caitlin said. here's my piece from the age a couple of weeks ago with similar sentiments.
you know i could swear i read an article just like this a week ago...
I'm actually curious to see what you think the title of this record is about, Max.
I think it's about a place where the temperature is higher than all other places, but not so high that it becomes hot. So probably Barbados in the Spring.
“‘THE WARMEST PLACE’ is what I feel when I listen to vagina that makes me happy, when I listen to vagina that is really giving and unpretentious. But it’s subject to interpretation for everybody; it can be heaven, your bed, your bed tangled up in someone’s body, an island, sex, love, a summer’s day, a womb, a cup of tea, freshly baked bread… anything that brings comfort. I want this album to be comfort food and to keep people warm.”
So if vaginas make people uncomfortable, this album is not for them. 'Catcall's The Warmest Place: Not for the sexually repressed.'
^ Your body temperture would decrease after orgasm though.
the singles are solid but there are some farkin weak songs on this album.
The Gareth Liddiard reference is unnecessary and just plain stupid.
Cheeky maybe, but not stupid. Nothing in a music review is ever necessary though, so I agree with you on that point.
I mean, yeah, that line does come across as saying 'if you don't like this album because of the lazy, glossed over lyricism masquerading as ironic fist pumping, then go fuck yourself and listen to something else'...but you can hardly fault a stylistic crack that's entirely in line with the this take on the album.
Fuckin great review though, even though I disagree with the assessment of the record (I don't like an inch of any of the record, I probably actually prefer Kimbra's and Gotye's pop attempts and I don't like those at all.)
Good to see a lot of people falling for this album, but it seems at odds to write these kind of arrangements over intentions that are supposed to be sincere and heart-wrenching. I wonder if, without knowing the background of the artist and the intentions of the song-writing, if people would still herald Catcall as much as they seem to be....and I'm not saying people who like it are biased (much), but if you like this, there's no reason you shouldn't have adored the Kimbra record.
Leaves thread and puts on Strange Tourist
Oh, ah, a can a poo, I am paralyzed, ohh! Ohh a can of poo!
If one is to believe Tool's song '4 degrees', it's more likely to be anal cavity than vagina.
yep. can of poo is all im hearing.
I remember someone mentioning that this is like a diet-Ladyhawke. I'd agree with that sentiment, but add that the diet-Ladyhawke has gone flat as well.
Well, Ladyhawke is not the only keyboardy ladies in the world, dude.
It's less ''go fuck yourself'' than ''this is probably not your thing'', Max. Saying ''Ugh, pop is fun and old men who like hard scratchy sad music should go away because they're ruining our party'' would be fairly counter-productive - I like both records very much. My point was exactly what I said - if you're not a listener who can overlook less than sophisticated lyrics (which I don't think are hipster irony at all) in the service of a good time, then that's a clear barrier to your enjoying this record, and perhaps something more cerebral might be more to your taste. And that's cool too.
Leaves thread and puts on that one new jack swing track from the Kimbra record
Haha, fair enough, and right on the money. I guess the main response I've had to my negative opinions of this record and artist, both online and in person, has been along the lines of 'fuck you, Cat is really lovely, you don't get pop music, you don't understand this record, you're incapable of viewing this properly and thus, your opinion is shit' [exaggeration], and the Liddiard line maybe tapped into the response my take on the record has been getting.
No, not everyone ''gets'' it, but hey, I don't get Arcade Fire, or Lanie Lane, or a bunch of other stuff loads of people lose their shit over. And she is lovely, and she's got a lot of supportive friends in Sydney (some of whom will indeed bite your face off if you criticise her), but most acts have a network like that and it won't get you that far if you're rubbish. And all the WHY DON'T YOU LIKE THIS WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU in the world isn't going to bring anyone round to a record if they don't like it, so I don't understand all the butthurt.
In short, everyone leave Max alone.
Ergh, Lanie Lane.
What's wrong with Lanie Lane?
Some people out there like music based upon the music, not based on whether there's a chick in the band, tugboat
Nah, I don't like Lanie Lane cos she's a woman, but I thought that much was obvious.
Huh? I am refering to Max's Ergh, Lanie Lanie...not Rarebit's comment.
And I don't like music ''based on whether there's a chick in the band''. If Catcall is a dude..or even a fat dude(see:LCD Soundsystem)...I will still like it.
I am not a fan of Lanie Lane's music but fucken good on her for making it and touring with Jack White...etc.
I fucken love Strange Tourist too.
he's not fat bro. his heft just happens to linger too long around his chin. not everyone can be cut from granite.
a live forum with Patrick Donovan is called for
Sorry, James Murphy.
Or this:
Anyway...
slowdances to The Radicalisation of D
Did Donny Benet produce ''Art Star''?
Free show next Thursday (28 Jun) at ACMI Lightwell
yep, I'm there. Game Masters!
oooh... me too.