Neko Case is an artist devoted to process. The grieving one informs her new album Neon Grey Midnight Green, exploring creation through the lens of intimate devotionals to musicians, producers and activists who have passed on. Equal parts her muses and real-life friends, Case invites us into their respective memories, weaving hyper-specific stories of the dearly departed that float between indie rock, country noir and big-city American gothic.As a gender-fluid person producing her own music, the creative process also takes centre stage in her work. Case has a history of disappearing to create, emphasizing the need for her songs to gestate into their fullest forms before sharing them with the world. "There are so few producers who are women, non-binary, or trans," the artist said in the press materials for Neon Grey Midnight Green. "People don't think of us as an option. I'm proud to say I produced this record. It is my vision. It is my veto power. It is my taste."Case does not strive to be relatable or diaristic in her writing; rather, she embraces the practical magic of waxing poetic about how individuals embody themselves without even trying, using her lyrics to paint the sensations of existing in a room with each person that she writes about. Instead of sensationalizing this confidentiality, her fantastical stories highlight the mundane unsightliness of daily realities like period blood and armpits.Neon Grey Midnight Green is a wistful album, yearning for a return the gritty reality of closeness. To truly know someone and be with them in their space, there has to be some friction. To be loved is to be known, and the romanticization of these imperfections is mimicked in the production of the songs, all of which were laid down live, with clothing rustles and settling sounds left in the mix. Breaking the fourth wall on "Rusty Mountain," Case gives the listener insight into that coveted moment of conception. However, it also disrupts the song — which emphasizes in its beautiful chorus that there's more to life than belonging to someone ("We all deserve more than some love song," she sings) — without really adding much to the latticework of private life that the album builds. It's an intrusion that shatters the illusion, abruptly ending the flow state of being immersed into the artist's world-building.To opposite effect, closing track "Match-Lit" sees Case draw out the experience of lighting a match, effectively bringing the audience into the moment with her. At the end of the song, she continues to stretch time like taffy by closing out with a metronome-like ticking beat — inconvenient for the streaming age, but full of proof that real humans were in the room where the art was made. If you wait, there is a reward for those interested in committing to a whole album; a final refrain.This is the reality of taking chances — and, as the protracted ending of "Match-Lit" proves, Case refuses to compromise for her artistic vision for digestibility or easy answers. She's a creator in full awareness of what she possesses, and the trusted power of attorney in determining the choices that will best serve the work. Despite Case arguing that we deserve more than a love song, Neon Grey Midnight Green is a true act of love: an invitation to become entangled in the emotional web of feeling, living and making together, warts and all.
Wavelength
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