Music's impetus is much more complicated within a commercial framework than a traditional folk one, but one of its original functions-- to convey a heritage across time-- remains intact. The best evidence for this is how consistently the emergence of new tools for manipulating sound has been accompanied by a rush to standardize their use. John Cage noted that as soon as the theremin was invented, people started trying to replicate chamber music with it. A minority of guitarists explore the instrument's range of possibility; more crowd into the narrow province of rock. Software that has the potential to expand sound palettes is more often used in the service of conformity, rendering the mistake all but obsolete.
Those who choose to intone outside the lines are free to do so; but it's natural for the majority to work within genre restraints and it's interesting to see how the collective negotiation toward a standard unfolds, especially with the remix, which is still new enough for us to watch it happen in real time. The remix isn't determined by technology to any greater degree than other genres, but its tendencies sure can make it seem that way. When you think "remix," despite the endless possibilities for rearranging sound, don't you immediately think "dance?"
As such, the remix disc that comprises half of this encomium to Xiu Xiu's theatrical electro-pop is about what you'd expect: Mostly Xiu Xiu songs with more intricate drum patterns, glitchier melodies, and rushing synths. Not that the results can't be nice: Kid 606's thin-sliced version of "Bishop, CA" is masterfully dynamic. Gold Chains fashions "Hello from Eau Claire" into an itchy electro banger in the vein of Vitalic, recasting Caralee McElroy as an anomic club diva. This Song Is a Mess But So Am I does the exact same thing with "Buzz Saw". Son's "Over Over" opens with squalls that promise a harsh noise overhaul, but nope-- red herring; more gleaming beats. Xiu Xiu themselves gussy up "Ceremony" into a new wave jet crash, and To Live and Shave in L.A. trawl through the entirety of The Air Force to craft a dizzying IDM collage.
If these efforts feel familiar, it's easy to understand why-- the beat-oriented remix is a proven formula for delivering thrills and chills, and the artists here who venture outside of it do so with mixed results. Warbucks' "Suha" is a tense piano ballad that actually pulls more resonance from Jamie Stewart's voice than the original's sputtering electro. Grouper stretches "Tonite & Today" into the long, wispy drones they favor; one wonders if it would've been a better fit for the covers disc. The only outright dud is Cherry Point's "Ale", which simply pickles the song into a brine of distortion that's neither monstrous enough to be of interest on its own nor subtle enough to strike a compelling contrast to the source material.
So the remix disc is pretty much just a shine job, but the superior covers disc is packed with surprises and interesting mutations; it has a stylistic broadness that's understandably absent from its companion. Part of its success stems from prudent artist choices-- Xiu Xiu collaborators like Larsen and Oxbow understand his idiom well enough to make it their own. The former plays "Mousey Toy" as bright, majestic post-rock with computer-generated vocals; the latter absorbs "Saturn" into his haunting, harrowing outsider-folk style. But beyond being enjoyable, the covers disc actually reveals something true about Xiu Xiu-- they aren't really, despite all the screaming and strident noises and ranting set pieces, experimental musicians. They aren't doing anything to music that scans as unnatural to Western listening habits. They're more like very, very idiosyncratic pop musicians, setting about the codification of their own superficially anarchic sound.
If Xiu Xiu songs weren't rooted in pop, it wouldn't have been possible for Marisa Nadler to so seamlessly transform "Clowne Towne" into a folky hymn while retaining such a strong sense of the original, or for Sunset Rubdown to faithfully reproduce "Apistat Commander" in their own cosmic arena rock style. (Granted, it probably still would have been possible for Devendra Banhart to make "Support Our Troops" into a sort of mystical doo-wop, but that's just what he does.) Not all the covers hit the bullseye: The flimsiness of Her Space Holiday's piano-pop version of "I Luv the Valley OH!" is emphasized by the original's brawn, and Why?'s digital post-country doesn't do "The Wig Master" any favors. But they do draw out the immaculate melodic structures that lurk in the howling depths of most Xiu Xiu songs, coloring our perception of them like colored gels, while the remix disc is mostly strobe lights and smoke machines.
