Intimidation as stimulation, and why Brian Coulton just can't get enough of Amanda Palmer
On a sunny day in March 2006, the streets still littered by
gravel-filled melting snow, I was making one of my few final footed
journeys to high school. The morning, as most were at that time, was
bittersweet. Although I couldn't await escape from my last year, I
always knew once I arrived to host the school's morning radio show with
my top chum Monique, the day would begin to look up.
That's when, from my iPod earbuds, I heard the
beautifully-baritoned voice of Amanda (F**king) Palmer: "God, it's been
a lovely day. Everything's been going my way. I took out the trash
today, and I'm on fire!" The unexpected arrangement of words, set
against sedative piano strokes, ended with crashing symbols that
propelled the song into its chorus.
It wasn't the first time I'd heard the song, but the striking
combination of emotions contained in both lyrics and instrumentation
seemed to mimic the incompatible sensation I was feeling. Good Day by
The Dresden Dolls became a staple on our show; its ability to confuse
the drowsy, crowded hallways too irresistible to pass up.
But that was just the first chapter in my continuing love affair with
Amanda Palmer. The female half of Boston-based Brechtian punk cabaret
duo The Dresden Dolls (along with drummer Brian Viglione) has never
ceased to intrigue me since. From her scribbled-on eyebrows and black
and white-striped stockings to her blatant "screw-em!" attitude, and
bitingly clever songwriting ("I don't necessarily believe there is a
cure for this/So I might join your century but only as a doubtful
guest/I was too precarious, removed as a cesarean/Behold the world's
worst accident/I am the girl anachronism!" - Girl Anachronism), she's
an anomaly, both in her art and appearance.
Her hammering of the piano is infectious. When you see her on stage,
she moves from frantic to frail in moments, her incessant ivory
tickling making her look like an unwilling participant in a rogue
factory assembly line. But at the same time, she also appears
irrefutably assured. Think Jekyll and Hyde. Her energy, matched with
her willingness to show her vulnerability is both pretty and painful to
watch.
After two studio albums with The Dresden Dolls, Viglione shacked up
with Nine Inch Nails when the band needed a drummer, and Palmer decided
to try her hand at a solo career while the Dolls went on temporary
hiatus. While I knew her talent was undeniable at that point, I'd be
lying if I said the fear that Viglione could, perhaps, have been the
genius behind the band didn't cross my mind.
When Palmer released Who Killed Amanda Palmer? in 2008 (Twin Peaks
fans, unite), my buried apprehension remained, thankfully, deceased.
Co-produced by Ben Folds, the album maintains the vocal and lyrical
angst heard on the previous Dolls' releases, with a somewhat more epic
sound. Subjects from abortion through marriage to mental "disorders"
are just a few of the controversial topics she sings about. Amanda
Palmer was her own woman. But after proving her standalone ability,
particularly due to her noted anti-Britney persona, the "reBELLYon"
happened.
The movement, dubbed such by her community of online fans, was in
response to a seemingly simple request of her record label, Roadrunner
Records. Palmer released a video for solo song Leeds United, in which
she bore her refreshingly natural midriff. While she doesn't sport a
six pack, she certainly couldn't be considered overweight.
Roadrunner told her they wanted to eliminate scenes from the video
where her stomach was showing or even change them to make it look
better. (Author's note: Roadrunner's roster includes such family
friendly acts as Slipknot and Megadeath. They're not exactly
image-conscious Jive.). On her blog, Palmer recalls her favourite quote
from the meeting with her label contact, "I’m a guy, Amanda. I
understand what people like.” And, even in a song that she makes clear,
"Burberry vices, all sugary spices/It’s nice but it’s not what I'm
after" Roadrunner completely outdid itself by making such a suggestion
to an artist it obviously had no awareness of.
Palmer responded in an expectedly baffled manner, "I’m not TRYING to
look hungry. I’m trying to look HOT. There’s a difference." Her fans
know the difference. After she made the encounter public and refused to
make the desired changes, one man named Jordan Smith invited fans of
Palmer and The Dresden Dolls to show their support for her by posting a
photograph of their own bellies on The Shadowbox, the Dolls' online
forum. Hundreds responded. The "reBELLYon" was born.
The online presence of Palmer's fans is something she wholeheartedly
embraces. A member of the growing Twitterati, Palmer uses the tool to
connect with her fans and share daily insights (1,516 tweets and
counting). Ticket giveaways and lengthy Q&A sessions while driving
between cities on her tour are commonplace for Palmer, who also often
tweets photos of herself, sometimes (bravely) at her most unflattering
(4/5/09, 11 p.m.: "http://twitpic.com/2wicg - ugly effing cold sore
developing on lower lip.")
Twitter was also an avenue for her to share a nostalgic hometown side
project with the world. This month, Palmer returned to her alma mater,
Lexington High School, to help create a musical with her old drama
teacher based on the Neutral Milk Hotel album, In the Aeroplane Over
the Sea, which was largely influenced by Anne Frank's The Diary of a
Young Girl. "With the Needle that Sings in Her Heart" was also
simultaneously webcast online. When I logged on, there were already
more than 1,000 viewers tuned in.
Brazen, ballsy and brash, Amanda (F**king) Palmer is only beginning her
musical legacy. And her forthright lyrics continue to resurrect me from
any pitiful slump I tend to fall into. Three years later, even Monique
(now a London, Ont. radio host that recently broke the story of a fire
at the city's defunct Embassy Hotel) reminds me of the lyrics via
tweet: @BrianCoulton I took out the trash today (yesterday) and the
Embassy's on fire!
By Brian Coulton
Photos by Martyn Foster and Brian Viglione
 Brian Coulton, Sirens Of Sound | |
| About the author: | |
See Brian. See Brian run. Run Brian, run. Laugh at Brian run. Brian can't run. But he can write and speak, which he'll take over athletic prowess any day. Brian Coulton is a Stratford, Ont.-raised, Toronto-based freelancer presently studying at the Ryerson University School of Journalism. He's engaged in a polygamist love affair with Canadian culture and his french press, and never hesitates to tell you what films and music you need to consume, right now. Trivia-nerd by day, Scrabble-aficionado by night, Brian aspires to host Jeopardy... and to name his firstborn Björk (despite his Irish-blooded, English-hearted heritage). Oh, the musical allusions. For now, he'll settle with listening to records with his cat Lars (von Trier, not Ulrich). | |
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