Kurt Vile: Originality, Derivation, & the Mystery of Gestalt

…the experience of the mass is behind the single voice. —Virginia Woolf

…make use of another man’s inner quality and tone, but avoid his words. For the one kind of similarity is hidden and the other protrudes; the one creates poets, the other apes. —Petrarch

When it comes to Kurt Vile, particularly his 2011 release, Smoke Ring for My Halo, it’s the punk element that’s been neglected in so many reviews, emphasis typically placed on Vile’s debt to Bob Dylan, whose impact strikes me as indirect and general; and Neil Young, rightly credited and perhaps Vile’s most ostensible source; as well as Bruce Springsteen and Tom Petty, both of whom seem incidental influences at best. Punk a la the Ramones, though, as reinterpreted by a songsmith who came of age during the grunge era and the ascension of Beck; having also, I’m sure, absorbed the rage-and-whisper of such bands as My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus and Mary Chain, was the magical ingredient. Smoke Ring, as I hear it, is a 4.5/5-star release (yeah, numbers are overused, but I’m making a point, that this was a significantly original album!) with a shot—let’s reevaluate in 2021—at nailing a 5-star legacy rating.

If Smoke Ring was a success for its transcendent qualities, 2013’s Wakin on a Pretty Daze (for the sake of comparison, 4/5 stars) is almost equally successful, but for its artful reconfigurations of the abovementioned and other sources (perhaps the reconfigurations in Smoke Ring were simply more artful, to the point that they eclipsed their sources). At any rate, Vile certainly isn’t the first person to be originally derivative: an ability to cull, reconstitute, and synthesize prime materials according to one’s own aesthetic while also aligning with a current zeitgeist. Throughout history, many of the works most heralded are those in which an artist reimagines a precedent, thereby striking common ground with an audience; at the same time, asserting a new tone, content, and/or approach; i.e., a fresh gestalt.

Vile’s recent release, B’lieve I’m Goin Down, is his most cohesive album to date and shows Vile moving in a more introspective and singular direction. Vile is probably one of the most memorable songwriters, but certainly one of the most memorable stylists, of his generation, competing more with his own efforts than with those of his peers. With this album, he narrows his musical range, working consistently within punk-folk parameters, essentially mining his own subgenre but with heightened focus and a more palpable vulnerability than on previous releases.
 

The CD opens with “Pretty Pimpin,” a stoner narration replete with a discreet and treated revamping of the central riff from “Sweet Home Alabama.” In “I’m an Outlaw,” the banjo conjures a moonshine-and-backwoods setting, the intro reminiscent of a darker Carter family song. Vile drawls:

I’m an outlaw on the brink of self-implosion
Alone in a crowd on the corner
In my walkman in a snowglobe
Going nowhere slow

Vile works deftly with impressionistic references, this track and others sounding like what I’d call meta-recordings, dissociative reactions to DIY documentaries or adult animation, perhaps Richard Linklater’s Waking Life. The third track opens with an intro reminiscent of Young’s “Down by the River,” a memorable bass melody bridging the verses. In “That’s Life,” Vile offers a rambling narrative, a quirky collage of urban graffiti and slacker jargon. He strikes a tonal mix of wisdom and resignation, presence and detachment, lines delivered amidst a swirl of acoustic guitar, bass, and synth sounds, a satirical reference to the inevitable phoniness of life: we’re actors even if we don’t intend to be or want to be, navigating layers of stress and conditioning:

When I go out I take pills to take the edge off
Or to just take a chillax man and forget about it
Just a certified badass out for a night on the town
Ain’t it oh exciting the way one can fake their way through life
 

“Wheelhouse” is a standout track, Vile singing with dry and uncharacteristic nostalgia. The piano on “Life like This” adds another musical dimension to the album. “All in a Daze Work” is a standout track as well, an aptly bleak sonic canvas on which Vile slaps his diaristic lyrics. “Lost My Head There” is crafted around an upbeat and jazzy piano progression that would make Paul McCartney or Tom Waits proud. The instrumental “Stand Inside” marks, perhaps, an energetic dip in the sequence, though one could claim that the piece highlights Vile’s talents as producer and arranger. “Bad Omens” seems a bit incidental to the CD; not necessarily a throwaway track, but not one that seems to do much in terms of expanding the project. Ditto “Kidding Around.”
 

The CD ends with perhaps the most memorable track on the CD, “Wild Imagination,” the intro a folk-rock sprawl reminiscent of ’70’s proto-Americana, the opening lyrics possibly an oblique reference to masturbation, delivered in a signature deadpan drawl:

I’m looking at you
But it’s only a picture so I take that back
But it ain’t really a picture
It’s just an image on a screen

While Vile doesn’t display a wide vocal range, he’s an impressive singer who knows how to deliver a line with maximum impact. His phrasing, pacing, and sense of melody are impeccable (he does share this in common with Dylan). B’lieve I’m Goin Down (might as well be consistent, 3.75/5) shows Vile further tweaking a balance between hip disinterest, a la Gen X/Gen Y, and campy introspection. Also, it’s striking what Vile achieves on those tracks that are essentially limited to vocal and guitar, stretching traditional and contemporary definitions of the singer-songwriter.

Mid-career can be a challenging phase for an artist. Creative grooves deepen; commercial obligations and expectations weigh more heavily. If early-career trajectories are usually organically formed, reflective of natural affinities and interests, mid-career departures from stylized approaches require conscious and consistent cultivation. Habit is so often the enemy, and it’s a formidable one. I’m intrigued to see how Kurt Vile proceeds from this point, if he begins to mine his own precedents, growing reliant on formulae, albeit effective ones; or continues to explore new directions, reinventing himself and further expanding his sonic and thematic repertoires.