Popcorn Noises

Avey Tare - Down There

Talking about this album kinda necessitates talking around it, too. Not only is it a solo turn from a member of an über-prominent band, but it’s both specifically conceptual and confrontationally personal. Dave Portner has been forthright (if not exactly confessional) in a slew of recent interviews about some of the trying circumstances that gave rise to these songs—his grandmother dying, his sister being diagnosed with cancer, and splitting up with his wife, especially—and has framed the record as his way of working through a couple of difficult years. He doesn’t plan to ever tour or perform this stuff live in any context and is not positioning it as some kind of ‘debut’ that would set him further apart from Animal Collective. What this tells us, in so many words, is that Portner needed to make Down There as much for himself as for us. It should come as no surprise that artists use the creative process to simultaneously process their own personal lives, but there can often come a point where you wonder just what makes them think you’re interested in listening to their therapy sessions. Usually when this happens, there are too many acoustic guitars and/or orchestras involved and we end up calling it ‘self-indulgent.’ Fortunately, the imagery and aesthetics of Down There don’t play into commonplace notions of personal drama.

That brings us, of course, to the whole swamp vibe thing. Frankly, there aren’t a lot of descriptions I can offer that aren’t already neatly summed up by the album art (and pervasive crocodile images) and every review or comment that’s ever been typed about this album. You have the picture in your head already—murky nighttime bayous, creaky old shacks, misty cemeteries, and a hellish ominousness. Portner’s always shown a keen interest for aquatic sounds and in some ways Down There is just a darker, creepier twist on it than is really befitting his main band. Given all of this, the thing I think we have to ask ourselves is: what can and do we as listeners get out of this mucky, morose underworld? If a big part of the point is for Portner to descend into the depths and face some of his demons, is it worth it for other people to follow him?

See, even if the emotions and images and ideas are perfectly explicit before you hear a single note, they are as finely wrought and fully realized as we could expect. The electronic bass-heavy rhythms and ambient synth tones are draped in blocky, indistinct echoes and (naturally) hedged by trickling, bubbling, and gurgling water sounds on all nine songs. Warped, nightmarish dialogue samples are scattered across the album in little transitional pockets, too, giving it the feeling of a Heart of Darkness-style journey. Between the extended soul-waltz of seven minute opener “Laughing Hieroglyphic” and the almost-bouncy “3 Umbrellas” (referring to his three band-mates), we hear a pitched-down voice warn “…one of these just might jump out and do you in!” If it sounds cheesy on paper, it’s disturbing in the headphones, as long as you’re willing to play into Portner’s theatrical conceits. That’s always going to be one of the biggest hurdles for enjoying a record like this—if you can’t embrace it simply on the basis of how it takes you somewhere new and balefully vivid, you’re going to find it unconvincing.

There’s an intentional arc from the ghostly instrumental “Glass Bottom Boat” (at the outset of which another twisted voice invites us into his boat for passage to a gravesite) through the windswept downer “Cemeteries.” “Ghosts of Books” lies in between them, with its glitchy, swaying beat and the album’s most explicit meditations on romantic loss: “You’re so beautiful / but you can’t hear me…I’m so tired of disappearing.” The medical scenario on “Heather in the Hospital” doesn’t fare quite as well lyrically—Portner spends too much time describing the obviously clinical hubbub of the place—but its micro-house pulse is one of Down There’s lightest and liveliest. It builds to a slight crescendo at the very end, creating a nice momentum for when closer and early single “Lucky 1”s thin, buzzy loop suddenly kicks in. In context, the song sits as the most armored and resolved piece on the album, a way of hinting that we’ve come out the other side stronger without ditching the now-developed sonics or getting overly showy.

In the end, Down There does what most album-oriented music does: it presents you with an image and a feeling, creating a space for your imagination to fill in some of the detail and reveling in the cohesive experience. The difference here is simply that Portner has gotten more specific in both aspects. And though it may seem like it was mostly on his own behalf, there’s a rich experience waiting for anyone who cares to meet him on his own terms. Trust me, it’s worth it.