I was going to write about Kendrick Lamar’s I. I was going to type out thoughts about the hip hop artist’s newest song which was released last week and has seen both praise and confusion since it’s release. That is until I stumbled upon this brand new release from singing veteran Marianne Faithfull, and was reminded how some raw talents are often forgotten about because of the overshadowing of the more popular acts that get in their way. Not that Faithfull is a far greater musician than Lamar (who has proven himself to be one of the greatest young rappers out , there), yet I want to use this column to not just shlep my opinion about. I want to inform and introduce songs that may be overlooked if it wasn’t for the odd online platform that gives them the time of day. For those interested: I is a pretty good song but I wasn’t overly blown away with it.
Here, we will focus more on Faithfull’s legacy, of which is her yet again being overlooked. Known as the lover of Mick Jagger and because of her struggles with addiction, it’s astounding how hard she has fought to be in the position she desired to be in all of these years. Twenty albums later, she has just released Give My Love To London today, and Pitchfork has given her her dues by promoting a piano ballad off of this new release which is scary enough to be memorable merely seconds into the song. With the help of Australian barroom storyteller Nick Cave (of whom I have shown my appreciations for before), Faithfull’s song Late Victorian Holocaust is a slow burner that reminds me a lot of David Bowie’s own song of reflection Where Are We Now? that was released early last year. You won’t find any climaxes that grip onto your wrists here, though, whereas Faithfull’s song may experience its moments of intensity but they are never unrelenting. The string section creates an unsettling ambience like a swarm of bees is surrounding the piano. The piano chords are basic enough to cling onto but carefully picked out in such a way that they still seem to creep forwards whilst not changing all that much during the song.
Faithfull’s voice may show signs of age (give her a break, she’s almost 70), but here that works exceptionally well in her favor (she still has the ability to sing as well, so why the hell not?). Her voice nurtures but also frightens the listener. To feel so secure but so unsure, as if you were a child yet again on the brink of discovering that adults, too, are easily frightened, is powerful. Do we believe Faithfull, or do we break the facade and help her ourselves? She donates her happy memories to us, and knowing her plagued image, we cannot help but feel all the more upset. It’s late in the year, but, as Marianne Faithfull’s still-strong career can prove, it’s never too late. Late Victorian Holocaust is a song that channels purgatory itself, and its ambiguity (is it a song with optimism or doom?) is a reason why this track, released in the final quarter of 2014, is easily one of the year’s best.
