Concept albums rarely perform well in the universe of modern indie music. For example, when The Decemberists released their ambitious The Hazards of Love last year, it created a dichotomy between critics. Pitchfork blasted it; other reviewers followed suit. And although not all opinions of Hazards were negative, the general consensus was far from glowing. I too found last year’s Decemberists effort a bit ridiculous. I mean, it followed the textbook formula of having recurring theme music, multiple guest vocalists, and an absurd plotline (which in this case included shape-shifting fauna, an evil forest witch, a murderous rake, and the ghosts of his slaughtered children). Talk about overkill.
Enter Owen Pallett, the musician formerly known as Final Fantasy. His new record Heartland centers on a character named Lewis, a farmer-turned-warrior in the fourteenth century. Lewis lives in an imaginary world called Spectrum. Melodramatic instrumentation guides Lewis through such songs as “Lewis Takes Action” and “Lewis Takes Off His Shirt.” Yes, this album has all the characteristics of a typical concept album, but herein lies the genius of Heartland. With Heartland, Owen Pallett uses the rickety medium of the concept album to tackle complex lyrical themes of the human condition. Musically too, the album is absolutely gorgeous and is a pleasure to listen to. In truth, Heartland is one of the most mature musical opuses of the past few years. It is a rare beast – a tremendous concept album, both musically and lyrically.
Pallett does not present Lewis as a character, but rather as an artistic fabrication. Lewis too acknowledges that he is Pallett’s creation, even referring to Pallett by name. “I forgot about the math, forgot about the odds against an adolescent standing up to all of Owen’s wrath,” he sings, revealing that he is just as much a character as he is a puppet to his creator. To fully understand the significance of Lewis’ self-awareness, we must look at his story, which, thankfully, is somewhat ambiguous, making Heartland even more mystical in its appeal. We know that Lewis is a farmer who “leaves his daughter and wife” and becomes a warrior. We also know that Lewis is an extremely troubled individual. “I am a vector, I am muscle, I am bone,” Lewis asserts of himself. He likens himself to a Disney character. He vents his frustration via violence. In short, Lewis is an extremely self-deprecating individual who questions his very existence; sadly for Lewis, he is not real at all. He belongs to Owen Pallett. Yet he is more than a marionette; he is the vehicle with which Pallett explores himself. Lewis is Lewis just as much as he is Pallett, and vice versa. Ultimately, Heartland ends in Lewis’ murder of his creator in a bizarre twist that brings up extreme questions of existence and individuality. Yes, it’s that weird.
Now that I have brushed upon the lyrical genius of Heartland (I say brushed, for I cannot fully articulate the extent of Pallett’s scope), let me briefly mention the music itself. Imagine what it would sound like if Andrew Bird and Arcade Fire collaborated to make a video game soundtrack, and you’ve got Heartland. Pallett’s musical arrangements are near flawless, and his range of style is breathtaking. Sometimes the music is grandiose and overdone, other times it is as minimal as could be, even employing the usage of electronics at points. Oh, yeah, and there are vocal hooks, too. So here’s the deal: Heartland is an incredible album that rarely falters (the 50-second “Mount Alpentine” is the one time when the music becomes just a bit too overdramatic). There’s a lot to absorb on the first couple of listens, but believe me, Owen Pallett’s masterwork is a grower. Here’s to one of the first great albums of the new decade. It’s kind of a big deal.
“Now the author has been silenced.
How will they ever decipher me?
I hope they hear these words,
And are convinced you never knew me.”
-“Tryst With Mephistopheles”
