Remember - Alex G
Not enough banjo
Alex G, or Alex Giannascoli, is rightfully respected as one of the preeminent singer-songwriters of the 2010s and 2020s. Giannascoli has written music at a prolific rate for the majority of his life. Perhaps he hasn’t exactly hit Bob Pollard levels of creative frequency, but who has, really? The road to filling out his robust discography, which currently sits at 10 full-length albums, two film soundtracks, and a dense smattering of miscellaneous material, has essentially been documented from its inception to the present day. It would be a terrifying scenario for many artists to have the work they accomplished as a high schooler proudly on display and relentlessly archived for the entire globe to consume, but Giannascoli’s early material shows a level of maturity and a sense of vision that many would be lucky to reach at any point in their artistic life.
I am mainly referring to the album Race, generally accepted as Giannascoli’s second full-length project (though certain reports do conflict on the supposed 2011 release date). Listening to this album for the first time about a year ago as a total Alex G novice genuinely floored me. Though I am vastly familiar with the acts to which Giannascoli gets sometimes unfairly compared to (Elliott Smith, Sufjan Stevens, you know the jist), hearing the sounds captured by a 16-year-old Havertown, Pennsylvania native was jarring.
I think the record’s opening track, “Remember,” is fully representative of everything that captured my attention and induced my awe-stricken appreciation on my first listen. There is a charming quality to the, forgive me when I say this, cheap sound of the track’s opening guitar strums. You can hear in the timbre of the presumably nylon-stringed instrument that this is a well-loved hunk of wood and metal, one that has acted as the catalyst and inspiration for countless immeasurably personal and profound pieces of music. Maybe I’m reading a bit too much into what is ultimately probably not some grand artistic decision, but the inevitable result of a teenager simply working within his means to reliably record his songs. Still, I can’t help but feel like the chords here burst out of the guitar in a wholly familiar and comforting fashion.
A cavalcade of twanging banjo strings, a somewhat off-kilter and uneven arpeggiated guitar melody, a glistening tambourine and a lonely snare drum then come into frame, proving that even from an incredibly early age, Giannascoli had a refined ear for what he wanted on any given track. A shaky, trembling layered vocal comes in soon after.
I’ve come here to kill my maker
‘Cause I’d feel much safer alone
This chillingly simple line is followed by our narrator talking directly to someone, opaquely navigating a particular memory.
I remember everything
You’re inside singing
You look so different
You’re walking across the tile floor
You look like Jesus on the water
The final repeated mantra of Please don’t help me leaves us as listeners without resolution, simply drifting through the insufficient ramblings of whoever Giannascoli is attempting to channel, whether it be himself or a third party. I often talk on this blog about not wanting to read into abstract lyrics, partly because I do not want to put myself into the shoes of the songwriter and speak for them and partly because I value one’s own opportunity and ability to find meaning in a piece of music or literature. All that to say, I don’t know what this guy is on about, but it is intensely gripping. The slightly sour delivery of the entire vocal track meshes with the obtuse instrumentation fittingly. And for this to be the work of a 16-year-old already on their second album is mind-blowing.
Truth be told, I still have to listen to much of the Alex G discography. Still, his defining artistry and uncanny ability to craft an environment in his songwriting at such an early age is incredibly inspiring. I hope you feel the same way.