May 17, 2015

Bio, line please

The Hollywood narcosis – flat, clean light, no credit card limit, driving drunk on white wine

and Valium (for the traffic), to a party in the hills where a celebrity friend from last week

might introduce you to someone, if he’s there, and you remember to ask.

As a metaphorical and biological product of its mythical illusions, it only made sense for

Class Actress to return to Los Angeles. Reeling from her father's cancer

diagnosis, the singer/songwriter took her advance from Casablanca Records

and moved into a bungalow at a luxurious Beverly Hills Hotel, to retreat into music as

an escape and a way forward.

Over months of nightly submergence in the city’s hallucinations, she watched the sharks circling

through their matte­ finished fish tanks and pixelated Face­time confessions, plumbing the

sweet depths of attraction, and synthesized them into 4­minute pop songs, always

intensifying the pre­-chorus hook. One evening at the Polo lounge, she observed what might've been

three high-­end escorts, and the lines between model, star, and call­ girl blurred into an epiphany on the album's themes.

The document of this slo-­mo surrender to the rush of pop fantasy is Movies,  a six­ song collection exploring the highs and lows of

a life of analog love in an era of digital emotion, and her first EP

for Casablanca records, executive produced by her spirit animal, the immortal euro­disco

originator and legendary Academy Award­ and Grammy Award­ winner Giorgio Moroder.

Movies is a recounting of a particular night, a constellation of two bodies and souls, the sugar rush of expectation yielding to the dark pull of power and submission, and the dull ache of a love hangover.

An airy, innocent vocal over the sea­ sick synths and club-stomping­ beat of “More Than You”

convey the vertiginous tight ­rope of romantic obsession, the unshakable desire for a lover like a drug she can't give up.

“The Limit” evokes the sparkle motion of 80’s dance­ pop, with a breathy, teasing vocal that reverses the relationship, making him come to her.

A yearning for freestyle, and nostalgic innocence of electronic music’s formative years,

also informs “High on Love” with its teutonic groove and new-romantic synth exercises, in which
our heroine succumbs to overpowering attraction as her attempt to

regain control has failed­­ - she's in even deeper, and he has all the power.

“GFE” casts transactional romance in an effervescent, aerobic glow, her transformation

into a simulated "girlfriend experience". Now she's the drug, making a perfect case ­study

for the pop song as delivery ­system for user-friendly desire.

In contrast, “Love My Darkness” heats up in the final stages of the night, pulling off the long

game of seduction through a hollowed out beat and vulnerable, imploring voice, until the night resolves in the sounds of Parisian birds at sunrise.

The title track, Movies, gives us a final clue to the record's theme: that fantasies, like movies,­ need darkness to exist.

When the curtains go up at the end of Movies, you "should feel like you've dated a crazy

actress." But you really might just be in love…