In a widely circulated interview with Impose Magazine posted online this week, guitar hero Marnie Stern took swipes at Best Coast, dismissing singer Bethany Cosentino's one-dimensional songs about boys and cats as “unacceptable." Some critics cast these comments as the opening salvo of a cat fight. “No part of Stern’s put-down touches on gender, but one would have to assume that she turned her attention to Best Coast as opposed to any number of arguably unworthy-of-buzz buzz acts because while Stern has successfully made inroads into the male-dominated world of technical guitar playing, Cosentino fulfills a few female stereotypes (Specifically: oodles of lyrics about pining after boys, a rudimentary display of guitar-playing ability) some may take offense to,” New York Magazine posited.
That’s a whole lot of words to put into somebody’s mouth, especially somebody like Stern who views gender as a non-issue. By every indication, Stern’s comments were driven not by feminist ideals, but rather by a standard that she holds all musicians to: that music should be personal. In her Impose interview, Stern chastised Best Coast’s stock subject matter by comparing it to “an ’80s hair metal band saying ‘I want pussy’ … That’s not showing any part [of yourself].” In an interview earlier this year with Time Out New York, she voiced similar criticisms of lo-fi music in general: “The lo-fi, “I don’t know how to play but it’s fun” [attitude]I don’t understand that at all. It seems like a faux spontaneity that’s not natural at all. I like music where the real personalities show through; with [bands today], it seems like all strutting.”
Stern's stance on honest songwriting has hardened with each of her own albums. Her debut, In Advance of the Broken Arm, was often deliberately cryptic, but she opened up considerably on her 2007 follow-up, This Is It and I Am It… That shift continues on her upcoming self-titled album, her most emotionally complex yet, due Oct. 5 on Kill Rock Stars.
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Marnie Stern opens with a song that typifies the songwriter's newly direct approach, “For Ash,” a eulogy she wrote upon learning an ex-boyfriend had committed suicide. As with most of the album, the ache is palpable, but "For Ash" is not a simple sad song. On the contrary, it's bright and alive, almost joyous at times. As Stern copes with the loss, she consoles herself with warm memories of a man she recalls with overwhelming affection. It’s not until a half album later, on “Cinco De Mayo,” that she enters the anger stage of the grief process. Over panic-attack guitars and pillow-beating drums, her voice cracks with betrayal as she bellows a broken promise: “You will always be here!”
Every song has stakes, often explicit ones. “This! Does! Matter!” Stern chants to the wild, bucking guitar squeals of “Nothing Left.” After ruminating on a relationship she can never have (or at least never sustain), she ends the wistful “Transparency Is The New Mystery” with an prolonged sigh: “I need this.”
What’s remarkable is how Stern achieves such poignancy and sweetness without compromising the bombast and goofball pep that made her earlier material such a blast. Even on the most downtrodden songs, Stern still shreds on her guitar like she’s scoring a “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers” battle scene, as drummer Zach Hill wails on his kit with prog-metal showiness.
Only the shrillest, most braying tones have been cut from Stern’s sound, and they’re not missed. They were a relic of a time when Stern was on some level trying to alienate and drive away listeners. Now all she’s concerned with is inviting them in.
