Staying power is hard-earned in the high turnover world of pop. But Kimbra’s latest endeavor Primal Heart, released April 20th, is an audacious attempt to beat the odds, delivering listeners a more polished, commercial sound destined for FM radio channels and summer joyride playlists.
Last Thursday, The Annie O Music Series kicked off the celebration early at The Standard, ushering in Primal Heart with an intimate set by Kimbra that took an interesting turn midway through.
The room was eerily quiet. She had been standing there for the past five minutes.
By there, I mean the back of the stage, where Kimbra was holding her bandmate’s hands, back turned, shaking, nerves getting the best of the songstress. It was a vulnerable moment that was equal parts uncomfortable and heart-breaking––I wanted to crawl into a hole and die for her. But others were less understanding. I overheard a couple of guys volley snide remarks back and forth, laughing hysterically whenever they one-upped each other’s cheap shots––a stupid game of insult tennis.
Not all of us treat musicians like a used tissue, though we sometimes forget that they are people too, creatures of doubt and insecurity, not demi-gods hailing from some alien universe on a golden chariot. Sure, David Bowie, Hendrix, Mercury, Beyoncé, and a handful of others might be exceptions; however, most artists are mortal beings like us, imperfect and emotionally complex. Yes, Kimbra had a job to do. Yes, Kimbra has been doing this a long time. Yes, Kimbra has won two Grammys. But here’s the stone-cold reality: artists suffer from anxiety, no matter how poised or established they are, and taking shots at someone for battling nerves is never not in poor taste. I’d rather afford musicians empathy and space to be hyper-emotional, to express themselves candidly without fear or hesitancy, whatever that may mean, even if such outbursts erupt in apocalyptic ways, at the most inopportune moments. I’m looking at you, Kanye!
Eventually, she snapped out of it: “I had a lot of anxiety building up to this album. Thank you for sticking with me…You all can get really drunk after these couple of songs because I really want to.” The crowd responded (thankfully) with warm applause and a collective “woot.” Kimbra finished strong with “Human” and “Real Life,” bringing the shaky performance to a redemptive close. After extending her thanks to the crowd, Kimbra made for her escape route like her life depended on it. I’ll be honest, I would too.
Before Primal Heart, it had been a while since Kimbra had graced us with a fully-fleshed out project. But this might have been for a good reason. Her last album The Golden Echo––confused, excessively layered––was a frustrating listen-through, inundated with tangled production and overcooked auto-tune. The LP’s brighter moments supplied fans with some fun ones for the weekend, like the disco-funk inspired “Miracle” and “Madhouse,” yet these more digestible tracks were in short supply. Needless to say, it was time for Kimbra to go back to the drawing board.
Kimbra is most exciting when she is fearless, taking risks, colliding styles together, eschewing all musical boundaries. Her voice might not reach powerhouse Diva levels, but it boasts elasticity and an off-kilter cadence that lends itself towards her eclectic output. Since Vows, albeit a few misfires, her take on pop music has always been compelling, melding shades of Motown funk, hip-hop swagger, electronica crunch, and contemporary R&B in impressive ways. Even so, such bold experimentation in her music has a propensity for awkward moments.
Although it’s impossible to deny Kimbra’s talent; she is just as comfortable shredding a guitar as she is working her magic on keyboard controllers live onstage. But when Kimbra tries to act a chameleon, she often prioritizes breadth of style over sonic and thematic coherence, resulting in halfway realized projects that prove a flimsy backdrop for her larger ideas. If The Golden Echo and Vows were pubescent spurts in musical form, Primal Heart is both the culmination and transcendence of those growing pains.
Abandoning her genre-bending ethos for thumping 808’s and saccharine synths, Kimbra expands on her hyper-pop sensibilities, cooking up highly-addictive, sugary-pop anthems ready for radio airplay. “Everybody Knows” and “Top of the World” are standouts that channel Kimbra’s inner Kate Bush and Kendrick Lamar; it’s pretty fun listening to Kimbra bust outflows with ease, then navigate higher-registers effortlessly. But what’s most noticeable about Primal Heart is that it offers a different portrait of Kimbra––slicker, more salable.
Primal Heart is more than a pop cliché––it’s a battle cry and a forceful one at that. It hints at Kimbra turning her attention towards more commercial efforts––fabricating a larger-than-life persona, crafting a sound more conducive to chart-topping success––and I don’t blame her. Kimbra isn’t just here to have a good time, to barely slip through the cracks. You get the feeling that Kimbra is sprinting towards higher ground, vying for a place among her like-minded contemporaries: Janelle Monáe, Azealia Banks, Sia, fellow New Zealand native Lorde. While this release marks a substantial shift in Kimbra’s production tactics, it’s a smart move considering her career trajectory has arguably ebbed since her 2012 collaboration with Gotye on “Somebody That I Used To Know.” She certainly isn’t a household name…yet.
