One of the great things about reviewing music is the opportunity it gives me to indulge in my favourite albums whilst giving them my full attention. With certain albums this is a much easier feat than others. Woodkid’s The Golden Age is one of those albums. The album intrigues my ears from the first notes up until the very last, fading outro. It is an intense, moody masterpiece of voice, narrative and music. As I listen, I think of the lyricism and loneliness of Eddie Vedder’s Into the Wild OST. The album develops and I’m reminded of Leonard Cohen’s sombre charm. Orchestral instrumentals encase Woodkid’s vocal to create a warm, immersive record that is hard to ignore. The album opens with the title track, The Golden Age. A raw, vulnerable vocal accompanies a beautifully constructed piano piece, fleshed out by rich, elastic orchestral strings. It is at once reminiscent of a bygone era and wholly modern. This is especially clear as the song reaches its chorus, which has a distinctly cinematic feel, featuring fast paced, heavy percussion alongside dramatic trumpet sounds that have joined the arrangement. The song has a beautiful shape to it, starting small and expanding into an astoundingly big and emotive piece. Not so with the second track on the album, Run Boy Run, which begins at a quick pace with a complex combination of instruments, and sports moments of silence and acapella percussion, creating moments interest and showing an incredible thoughtfulness on the part of the songwriter. It is here that I am reminded of another of my favourite albums, Eddie Vedder’s Into the Wild OST. Although entirely different in shape and execution, it is the lyrical content and the mood of the song that makes me think of Vedder’s Society. It’s always with delight that I discover artists broaching new, unusual subject matter that seems to echo something of their life’s questions. Vedder and Woodkid approach the idea of escaping the everyday evils of modern society. If Vedder describes a gentle exit, Woodkid tells us of a hot pursuit of freedom. It is Boat Song that is most reminiscent of the great Leonard Cohen. “We threw our hearts into the sea / / forgot all of our memories” is repeated throughout the song, re-enforcing a delicate metaphor that speaks to human sorrow with great sensitivity. The depth and warmth of Cohen’s vocal is echoed in Woodkid’s rich, broken timbre throughout the album. It’s a beautiful combination of strength and vulnerability.
I Love You is a melancholy bid for the attention and affection of a rather aloof and self-involved loved one. Again, cinematic drama is the order of the day, and a fragile vocal emerges, leading the composition with what must be the most transparent lyricism on the record. Church bells add detail to the piece, along with creative percussion and piano. Not each song is quite so candid. Stabat Mater is evocative and dramatic, taking us on a musical journey before we are able to make sense of the narrative. Conquest of Spaces opens with an unidentifiable (at least to me) arpeggio, soon to be accompanied by Woodkid’s signature quick paced percussion and complex lyricism. It is unsurprising that Lemoine is also a designer, specialising in music video direction. There is something undeniably visual about his music. It’s near impossible to listen without the rich lyrical narrative of each piece to spark some sort of scene in your imagination. Each song is approached as if it were an artwork. Simple, elegant borders develop into intricate, detailed images that linger in your mind. There’s a wonderful sense of momentum to the album, created by fast paced, varied percussion and strong, steady vocal. There are unexpected moments and soothing progressions and growth in each song. It’s entirely unique, but there’s a reassuring sense that all is as it should be. Woodkid has been widely celebrated, and deservedly so.
