I read somewhere that Car Seat Headrest fans are the kind of people that get pushed into lockers by Weezer fans. That’s kinda funny, because while Weezer is not known to win on jock-factor, Car Seat Headrest might have taken semi-depressed juvenile wit to a whole other level.
Will Toledo started the band as a solo project right out of high school, at the ripe old age of 18. Having cycled through different music projects, but not finding the shoe that fit right (Cinderella’s sisters send their greetings) and failing to attain the desired renown, Will decided to take matters in his own hands, focus on staunch idiosyncrasy, and draw outside the lines.
In a year, he had written, recorded, produced and released multiple albums, starting to send some ripples among underground music’s online circles. The lyrics were both straight off the cuff and from the heart; the music lo-fi, to say the least – Car Seat Headrest, the project’s moniker, a nod to Will having initially recorded his vocals in his car, giving him some sort of auditory refuge in comparison to his bedroom.
But it was in 2011 that CSH’s album “Twin Fantasy” would really make a wave, garnering broad attention and reeling in capital-f Fans. A concept album that revolves around a relationship that Will had been in, he cycles through the emotions that tend to rush at you (even more so in the hormonal throes of just 19). Either energy you don’t know where to direct or numbing lethargy, seemingly seesawing back and forth. Loitering among painful, cherished memories or ready to kick down the supporting pillars and start anew. I suppose most (if not all) of us can relate in some way.
From a point of critical prominence, the band would follow up “Twin Fantasy” (2011) with Teens of Style (2015) and Teens of Denial (2016), both strong in their own right, but particularly interesting, in my opinion, is what would follow in 2018. Namely, “Twin Fantasy” (2018) in a revised, rewritten, re-recorded and then re-released version. At this time, both albums would be renamed to include (Mirror to Mirror) and (Face to Face), respectively, helping to distinguish them from one another.
For someone like myself, who has often pondered the question of whether artists are best at their most raw, most unrefined and, arguably, least diluted – or if it’s later, when they have the means and experience to produce more closely what they imagine (however, also under the constraints of far more external pressures, from fan to label expectations), this direct comparison is a great chance at observing artistic progression.
[Editor’s note: There is no general, definitive answer to this question – please stop thinking of things as being black and white.]
Make up your own mind. For me, since Twin Fantasy (Face to Face) (2018) is a reproduction of the earlier “Twin Fantasy (Mirror to Mirror)” (2011), I find it falls more into the category of enabling the artist to focus on fleshing out that initial artistic vision. Sure, label expectations at Matador Records will have played a role, but an indie label (yes, I am aware of the irony) through and through, MR would likely not have stood too much in the way of Will’s self-realization here.
Car Seat Headrest packs a punch, plenty of heartfelt teenage wisdom, all wrapped in an often hilariously matter-of-fact, (acutely self-aware) cynical tone. The lyrics paint tangible sceneries at times, granting a glimpse like watching adolescent TV dramas, while at other times applying broader strokes to convey generalized coming-of-age observations, like some modern classics at the library.
To me, 2018’s version takes the same uninhibited approach to music as its predecessor, refraining to shy away from 10+ minute songs that shape-shift and keep you on your toes, but benefits from the more lush orchestration to underscore the already lavish stories told. Angst-y prowess mostly untouched, and ever-honest and -present, I find it combines the best of both worlds.
Give it a shot – you’re in for a ride.
Coryphe 