#StVincentxGANT is out now! I'm thrilled to celebrate the ‘Daddy's Home’ era with the #GANT capsule collection. We interpreted the 1970s spirit into incredibly well-made pieces that you can wear in all kinds of ways. Shop the collection: lnk.ilovestvincent.com/GANT
STV UNPLUGGED IN BEXHILL!!! Good pals, Brexit and Covid, have conspired to fuck us on freight, but rather than wallow in sorrow, WE have decided to give Bexhill a very SPECIAL STV performance. Behold —STV UNPLUGGED!!! It’ll be RAW ACOUSTIC POWER. Be there or be square. -AC
"I've been a mega fan of her for a very long time."
In the latest Dream Fuel episode, @arloparks chats with indie extraordinaire @st_vincent about the ‘holy grail' of songwriting, and how they love music that both disrupts and soothes the listener.
Beginning tomorrow, join St. Vincent along with the ‘Down and Out Downtown’ band for a limited-time rebroadcast of their original #DaddysHome performance! Plus a special post-broadcast virtual hang. Get your ticket here: momenthouse.com/stvincent
UK! Bringing back the pre-show hangs! Look for the upgrade when you buy your tickets in Oxford, Manchester, London and Bexhill-on-Sea. For all tickets visit ilovestvincent.com.
Photo by Dustin Downing on behalf of LA Phil.
“Candy Darling” was the last song I wrote for “Daddy’s Home.” I can’t explain it, but I felt like Candy was guiding me through writing it all, so it only made sense for me to send her home on that last uptown train with a bouquet of bodega roses.
“I wanna be loved” is the truest thing I ever sang. I could primal scream it until my throat bleeds. Say it to yourself enough and you’ll start to cry. But as much as that line is true, I wanna love, too. I really, really do.
So time moves in it’s typically-perceived direction and years later I write a song called, “Daddy’s Home.” And I’m thinking back to those Haitian divorces and that Dr Wu and that smell and time’s all circling back on itself.
I didn’t know what a Babylon sister was, but I sure sang along religiously with my sisters…”So fine so young…tell me I’m the only one…” and the gulf air blowing the smell of tar and Texas throughout a car playing a song unsuitable for children.
It “started” with my earliest memories of road trips, listening to Steely Dan, looking out the window of a car not suited for children, watching the man-of-war laden, oil-slicked beaches of North Padre Island, Texas blur by. “Here come those Santa Ana winds again….”
But the global-event-that-shall-not-be-mentioned made me, like all of us, re-experience and reimagine time. When does something start? When does it end? I set out to make something that had a different kind of relationship to time.
A year was endless travel and tours and interviews and fat airline mileage accounts. A year was longer. A year was much, much shorter. A year into a record release was a little road-burned, a little manic, a little emotionally strung out, but I could sleep.