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August 2, 2019 - Fader Label
When I heard Clair(o)e Cottrill’s big little hit ‘Pretty Girl,’ I knew I wanted to hear more. Not a whole album of more, but more. The naïve musicality clicked with the message of the song which clicked with the video, and it all clicked so well. I jumped headfirst into Immunity, Clairo's debut studio album with the same amount of uncertainty.
The project opens up with a throat puncher in ‘Alewife,’ a track that catches you off guard with its raw emotion then ends before you’re ready for it to be over. Doubly so after the next three tracks, which promptly steer off course into the hazy grey areas that exist between genres. Off course is not always a bad place to be, but there’s a lack of commitment at the beginning of this album that distracts from the music. There’s also an itchy Vampire Weekend-esque itch that starts appearing, especially in the track ‘Impossible,’ that would have been apparent even without foreknowledge of former Vamp Weekender Rostam’s co-producerdom.
Luckily, ’Bags’ brings the project back into focus. The things that need to click do that. Lyrics slide into a broken piano, light drum riffs tickle Clairo’s relatively somber voice, the energy feels right. Then, like a 90-degree day in the middle of the crisp throes of autumn, ‘Softly’ pulls the headspace out of the pleasant darkness into the sun. And I, a vampire, don’t appreciate the gesture. The light, Top-40-radio R&B elements just add to the “various artist playlist” feeling Immunity has at this point. The next track, ‘Sofia,’ was digested perfectly by fellow critic Anthony Fantano who states the track “sounds like a track from the Strokes’ album Comedown Machine. It’s almost as if Claire is just doing some karaoke over a leftover instrumental from that album. It’s not terrible, but I don’t find it that appealing.” I agree.
Like tracks two, three, and four, tracks eight, nine, and ten veer off road into the misty genre-less forest, though closer to the pop/R&B side of the stream. They don’t feel right. I’d say they feel disingenuous, but I don’t know Clairo, and there hasn’t been enough content from her for me to feel completely solid on this take.
Then comes ‘I Wouldn’t Ask You.’ This track has me questioning the project as a whole. It brings all the elements, good and bad, from the previous ten cuts, melts them down just a touch, presses them together gently, and then lays what sticks together down at our feet. Even after the emotional vulnerability present earlier in the project, ‘I Wouldn’t Ask You’ stops me again, makes me feel again, incites introspection again. The first half of the seven-minute finale opens up the space of the project, making the previous 33 minutes feel claustrophobic in comparison. Clairo and presumably a small choir of children share this openness in a poignant yet comfortable way, gently singing overtop an ethereal piano-chord sea of blankets. The autotune that’s present in some of my least favorite tracks is present at the beginning of ‘I Wouldn’t Ask You,’ but it’s quickly shrugged off as one does to a “going out outfit” once one returns to the safety of “home.” A nearly indistinguishable vocal recording pierces through the mix like a pine marten darting through the snow. A beat drops. It’s unassuming, but it clicks in all the ways Clairo has clicked before. The recording returns and lays down texture as the voices of Clairo and company add to the auditory swell. I didn’t know what I wanted going into this album. Much of what was sandwiched between ‘Alewife’ and ‘I Wouldn’t Ask You’ did not resonate with me, but I have to wonder if the payoff in the last track would have been the same without everything else being present in the project.
I’m still trying to figure this out. I’m still trying to figure a lot of things out. Clairo seems to be still trying to figure some things out as well. Starting is the hardest part.🍍