John Grant has always been a musician good with contradictions. On “Love is Magic”, he pushes this theme to its extremes and seems to come to terms with his own holism. This is his most explicit album, in that it combines so many of the opposing features of his much and works them into a, sometimes disjointed, but nevertheless fully convincing whole for the first time in his career. This is the most evident on Metamorphosis, the albums’ opener, and one of the best tracks of the year. The song lays this dichotomy bare, beginning with a crunchy 8-Bit stomp and listing disparate things on Grant’s mind in his trademark caustic, childlike manner. The first third of the song culminates in the following stretch of lyrics, which gives you a fair sense of Grant’s new depths of ridiculousness.
“Yeast infections, synthesisers,
Who created ISIS?
(she knows what I mean)
Broccoli with cheese sauce,
How long you’ve been clean”
However after this point, the song transitions into a heartfelt and bruised segue exploring Grant’s feelings (or lack thereof) at his mother’s passing. This is no kids stuff, and Grant is not fucking around. It’s as sincere as the preceding lyrics weren’t, and it jars hard.
“They took her in an ambulance,
And that is where she died,
And still until up to this very day,
I don’t think I have cried”
On the one hand, this scans as insensitive, and even for Grant’s tendency to use the song as a confessional, more than a little overt. The fact that the song is literally different, stitched right until the middle of what’s come before, gives the listener pause, and whilst on the first couple of spins it takes some getting used to, as a statement of where Grant is at, it works perfectly.
Few musicians have ever approached their albums so explicitly as an emotional document, or testimonial; perhaps only Xiu Xiu’s Jamie Stewart comes close. Yet whereas before Grant’s songs could be sorted into categories, the sincere (Glacier, Disappointing, Queen of Denmark), the funny (You and Him, Sensitive New Age Guy, Where Dreams Go To Die), and both (Grey Tickles, Black Pressure, Outer Space, Black Belt), on Metamorphosis Grant takes those contradictions and pushes them to their furthest limits.
It’s akin to a confrontation, with Grant saying ‘I contain multitudes, and you can take me or leave me’. If this ends up taking the form of heartbreak and life-defining loss next to free-associative banality, then so be it.
However, this approach asks a question that’s much bigger than Grant, concerning the constitutive elements of a life, and how utterly absurd it can sometimes be. On a given day we might find out we have cancer, but later we still will need to think about what to have for dinner. On the same day we get married, we might still check the news. As chronicled in Will Lovelace and Dylan Southern’s Shut Up and Play The Hits, the morning after James Murphy ended LCD Soundsystem he still had to get up and walk the dog.
We are not, and never, allowed the privilege of knowing how and when to demarcate the mundane and the noteworthy, and throughout most of our lives they sit awkwardly next to one another, rubbing shoulders. It’s one of the key aspects of being human, the lack of control we have over the when and where of things. Life is constantly in flux, and we move from moment to moment with little to no control over what those moments are going to be. We are constantly undergoing a metamorphosis of the self, and change is a part and parcel of living. Sometimes it’s scary, sometimes it’s fun, but it’s unavoidable and we have to find a way of coping with it one way or another.
In Metamorphosis, Grant seems to have found his answer for, or a way of living with, this bizarre human trait, and that is to just throw himself in at the deep end and accept life for the totality of its absurdity. It might seem disingenuous, placing such incredibly disparate elements next to one another, but it is honest, and true, and those are qualities that nobody would deny Grant has in spades.