Eskimo Snow

Danny: When you first proposed discussing Eskimo Snow, I said I kinda hated it and you said you might feel the same way. Do you?

Sean: No, I feel more… generous toward it now. It was worth a second pass, because there were definitely moments I’d been missing. WHY? records tend to be densely packed, so I thought this one might have parts that passed under the radar. Do you still feel the same way?

D: Actually, I’ve completely reversed my opinion. I love this record now. It’s still not in the stratosphere of Elephant Eyelash or Alopecia for me, but I’m amazed how much I’ve changed course.

S: This was partially my thought—we tend to dedicate too little time to music. Or to things in general.

D: Especially art that’s not readily accessible or apparently great. And yet, ironically, it’s that denseness and inaccessibility that makes this such a worthwhile listen. Quite literally, every time I put it on, I find myself liking it more and unearthing new layers.

S: Me too. I keep discovering new beautiful little lyrics in it.

D: Lyrically, it may be nearly as strong as its predecessors. What’s harder to get past initially are the music and vocals, I think. Both are far less readily joyous and ebullient.

S: The singing and rapping aren’t quite as catchy either.

D: What I loved about the earlier albums was how Yoni Wolf would mix such morbid lyrics with such energetic delivery. Here, he can sound as depressed and defeated as his subject matter. It’s like he’s too sad to bother not sounding too sad. Whereas before, he’d try to mask his pain in showier, bouncier melodies.

S: The old pop music cliché—sad lyrics set to happy music.

D: But a pretty affecting cliché all the same. Better than happy lyrics set to happy music.

S: I can understand why these songs were cut from Alopecia, yet this record could only come right after it. Thematically, they’re night and day, but musically, they’re similarly textured. I see them as a set. Eskimo Snow is Alopecia’s sad little brother.

D: There’s a Kid A/Amnesiac comparison to be made here too.

S: That comparison flies. What about favorite songs or lines? Wolf is one of the rare lyricists who actually deserves our attention. Personally, I love “That’s right, I’m like everybody else is/ Ashamed of sleep, I lie when a phone call wakes me/ Oh, am I too concerned with the burn of scrutiny?”

D: I’m obsessed with “This Blackest Purse.” For me, it could easily stand among Alopecia’s highlights. Or any other apex of the WHY? discography, like “Gemini (Birthday Song).” There’s a verse in it that encapsulates everything I love about this band, which is, “Still sportin’ my ex-girlfriend’s dead ex-boyfriend’s boxers,/ I wanna operate from a base of hunger,/ No longer be ashamed and hide my/ Tears in shower water while I lather for pleasure.”

S: Explain how that encapsulates WHY? for you.

D: First, there’s the incredible and perverse loneliness of wearing an ex’s dead ex’s boxers. But also the impossible need for intimacy and connection that leaves you at an ever greater remove. And the attempt to hide your pain while trying to feel any temporary joy. Ultimately though, you’re alone and, oh yeah, sobbing in a shower and jerking off.

S: What most strikes me about his writing, is that, even in the most destitute and destroyed moments, he works from a base of humor.

D: That’s true. It’s a deeply Jewish trait, I find. Woody Allen and Allen Ginsberg both spring to mind as forebears. Anybody named Allen really.

S: Tim Allen?

D: Obviously. There’s also that mutual twisted relationship with sex. The guilt, the confusion, the raw need. (See: “I wish I could feel close to somebody, but I don’t feel nothing/ Now they say I need to quit doing all this random ffff…”)

S: I’d never really considered how Wolf’s Jewishness informed his work. He does remind me of a Jewish friend from school though. Quite a bit.

D: It’s a huge influence, I think. One he’s discussed before. His father’s a Messianic Jewish preacher, and he himself used to be a believer too. I can also detect the typical Jewish male mindset in many of the lines. The oil-black humor, that savagely uncomfortable honesty. It runs through our bloodline.

S: What you’re describing seems to be resonating with the wider world, beyond the bounds of a Jewish people. Or maybe I feel that way because I relate to it too.

D: It can definitely be a universal sentiment. Here are another two lines about conflicted sexuality that are pretty illustrative: “I never saw my parents try to make a thing like me/ In time, in the bathroom mirror, I learned to accept my body.” He’s so self-absorbed, so riddled with doubt. He just can’t ever get out of his head or away from his failings.

S: Humor really is the only way out. We have to learn to take ourselves less seriously. This album sounds like him coming close to failing at that.

D: And yet he grasps the importance of humor. Just before that quote, he says, “Flowers are how plants laugh.” That’s a pretty gorgeous image, and one that’s very revealing about his conception of comedy as a survival mechanism.

S: It’s a good line. The one I try to use the most. But I want to come back to the music, which I actually find is just as complex and nuanced as the compositions on Alopecia.

D: Give me an example.

S: The arpeggiated chords of “Into The Shadows of My Embrace.” It starts off as a parody of a lounge singer and develops into this beautifully full arrangement.

D: I like that description of it.

S: It’s like a dour, rapping Steve Reich song. These guys seem to have studied their minimalism.

D: I find it more subdued than their previous records overall. The music matches this impression I get of Wolf just trying to get by. To slog through the day. It’s not as manic or spiky; it doesn’t rise and fall as much as it used to.

S: I found that listening to this record very loud or on headphones really opened it up sonically for me. It’s very richly produced—organ drones, echoing vocals, clattering percussion, breathing sounds, gorgeous drumming.

D: I didn’t fall in love with it until I listened to it while walking. It’s meant for solitary walks at night through beautifully lit cities, with a coffee and a few drinks sloshing through your system. Some doubts, a few regrets, a lost love on your mind.

S: I found it made for nice music to wash dishes to. A little less romantic, but wonderful nonetheless. It’s full and thick, so it deserves to be listened to accordingly.

D: It took me about six listens to crack through its defenses. I really admire albums that grow like that, and am continually surprised when it happens. Especially in this era of instant judgment.

S: At one point, I wanted to start a website that only reviewed music that was at least a few months old.

D: That’s entirely inverse to the way the critical sphere works today. Which is, to give your loud, short opinion as soon as possible.

S: Appropriately, taking your time is a lesson I learned from minimalism and experimental music. John Cage once said, to paraphrase bluntly, “If it’s boring, listen to it longer.” We need the time to discover folds in things, which is also an act of listening as creation.

D: What are some other albums that expanded for you in a similar way?

S: Augie March’s Strange Bird. I certainly didn’t like it much when I first heard it. But I’d purchased the CD, so I was going to like it or be damned. Also, William Basinski’s work in general.

D: I still lack the requisite attention span for Basinski. But I do feel that way about Stars of the Lid’s And Their Refinement of The Decline. People should migrate back to buying CDs. It’d improve the experience of music listening. Just making that active commitment.

S: I try to buy records for that reason. I’m definitely guilty of not committing, so every time I rediscover something I hated or felt indifferent toward, it makes me happy.

D: It is a special genre of victory. For me, the most recent example was Menomena’s Mines. The most important was most of Smog’s catalog, especially A River Ain’t Too Much to Love.

S: I still haven’t given Mines enough of a shot. Like Eskimo Snow, it’s almost too brutal to listen to casually.

D: It’s startling to think, in the case of Eskimo Snow, that I let so many depths slip by unrecognized for two-and-a-half years.

S: This experience has reminded me art can be really be worth something, can really be taken seriously. That it’s not disposable, even though it’s easily available. It reminds me of how I felt when I discovered, say, the Replacements. I never would’ve made it to the last song on this record either. And the production on that song, the title track, kills me. Any opportunity to pay attention is worth taking.

D: It’s a wonderful closer, I agree. So what do you think we can expect from WHY? next? I was searching for news of a new record, but disappointingly found none.

S: I don’t know—maybe Wolf will take the Kanye route. Release an over-the-top record, followed by a downer, and then fold them into the fabric of one another for the next. I have no doubt that he has the range to make his next album as good as the last few.

D: I just hope Nicki Minaj does a guest spot to add to the psychosexual lunacy.

S: That’s a dream we can all stand behind.

D: And that his next project is just as unflinchingly honest about his current state of mind.

S: He probably can’t help it. Like Faulkner, who was once fired from a job at the post office for “incompetence.”

D: There’s one more brilliant verse that sums up the WHY? mission for me, which is: “I wanna speak at an intimate decibel/ With the precision of an infinite decimal,/ To listen up and send back a true echo/ Of something forever felt but never heard,/ I want that sharpened steel of truth in every word.” For me at least, he’s accomplished his mission very well. Over and over, about thirty times in two weeks, I’ve been cherishing that sharpened steel of truth, and I feel richer for having done so.