The most exciting and, well, bewildering thing about Scout Niblett is that in addition to being a singer, songwriter, and fire-spouting multi-instrumental force, she actually believes in astrology. Serious astrology- not next to the classifieds horoscopes, but real deal planetary alignment type stuff which is, honestly, a preference that might complicate relationships with a friend. “You were twenty minutes late because of Pluto?” But for a musician, astrology turns out to be a poetic goldmine.
It’s important to note Scout’s belief in the potency of the stars because it directly raises the potency of her music. Her latest album’s title, Killed By Neptune, is an allusion to the cleansing powers of that far out planet. And her MySpace page presents, before the haunting and addictive tracks beneath it, a drawn out explanation of how a series of injuries she’s had in the past few months are a result of planetary paths, solar conspiracies, and other phenomena no layperson should hope to understand. The stars extend to her work- listen to “Hot to Death” and you’ll learn that “Mercury blew down to tell me stories.”
There’s something about those lyrics, however, that makes mystery from the gibberish, that draws resonance from the confusion. After all, if nothing else, pop is a series of abstractions. Every day we listen to songs that polish worn out words down to their essence- phrases about “love,” “my baby,” and yes, “lady lumps” are so desiccated from overuse that it takes a lot of work to make them new again. What Scout does is pick new words. The planets are still a mystery instead of a dried out trope, and when planets orbit around iams in search of a rhyme scheme there is, appropriately enough, a kind of gravitational pull.
The stars aren’t the most important thing to notice about Scout, however. Even the moving planets are too constant compared to the dynamism of Scout’s music. Alternately reserved and enraged, she recalls some of the flailing volume of the Pixies. And that’s how she understands her music too. “I’m kinda gutsy,” she tells Freshout. “I pretty much sing about love and death and I do it in a pretty stripped down way.”
Her music is stripped down but not barren- listen to “Wolfie” and you’ll hear a guitar clearing out the audience so that Scout, with her high-range voice, can come in and set the record straight. “We woke up late again and walked into town,” she starts, confused and strained, and then continues to narrate her story about a hirsute lover. It intensifies as the seconds tick off and her cry intermittently distorts into a scream along with her guitar. It sounds impossible that she could sing without being scarred. “Yeah,” Scout admits, “It takes a lot out of me.”
She also uses that energy behind the kit- Scout drums too, and she does it like she’s calling out an army. “Fuck Treasure Island” opens with gentle harmonies and then turns into a call to arms. It’s like the national anthem for a country that never existed, or a hymn that hasn’t found a religion. Whether live or on an album, she doesn’t shy away from challenging herself to sing deeply. “I mean hell, we’re not machines,” she believes. “You just have to try and ride what’s going on.”
Based in Portland, Scout is a vital part of the music scene there (although she admits that it’s exciting enough that there’s a few too many “distractions“). Her voice and music, her ability to switch tone from a lilt to a howl, marks her as an exciting artist to discover, regardless of her zodiacal tendencies. Just as her lyrics scrape up big ideas, her music rips up a song and sews it back without hiding any of the seams. In describing her music, Scout says, “It’s fierce, I think.” The “think” isn’t necessary though- any listener knows about her ferocity from the first thirty seconds. The interesting part is everything else that’s there as well.
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July 17th, 2006 at 11:18 am
The song “fuck treasure island” is the shit
July 17th, 2006 at 11:19 am
Awesome voice.
July 18th, 2006 at 7:55 am
Excellent article….
July 25th, 2006 at 1:23 pm
it’s all about the orange vest