"It is done" were that last words of Jesus Christ, and when Vanderslice is up in arms, hunched over his cup of tea, the ardent analog guru preaching the tube gospel, they're murmured with similar prophetic urgency. But that's just the molecular lockdown on the surface of the drop. Underneath: movement. His records — especially as they move away from being "guitar records" — are all about that tapestry. The song, lyrics, chorus, melody, and bridge — these are the structural elements that build the house. But you have to peek in the windows to see what's really going on: the art on the walls, that tapestry he's talking about and how intricately it's woven. "Exodus Damage" on his most recent album, last year's Pixel Revolt, has got mellotron "synthesizing" (sans computer), a choir, pipe organ, strings, and a flute. Instrumentally, the album's all over the place — it's like a warehouse with cello, Hammond B3, Wurlitzer, glockenspiel, vibraphone, steel drums, trumpet, moog, tape loops, and a "space station," among other things. There's a lot going on, on different levels, and you've got to do more than peek through the windows to really get Pixel Revolt; you've got to come inside and sit down.
Vanderslice constructs his music in that honest, brick-by-brick way of the analog stickler, but it's not as if he just mics it up, tapes it down, and it's ready to go. He manipulates his songs using techniques that might be more readily associated with the digital side of things. He builds them, then deconstructs them and builds something else. I'm reminded of Bob Geldof in The Wall, where he smashes everything in the hotel room and builds something that, at first glance, is obtuse and impenetrable but is clearly imbued with deeper meaning for having been recontextualized. Vanderslice takes digital techniques and analog-izes them. He uses Tiny Telephone like a punch card machine, a steam-driven computer.
"I like using the analog instruments of the studio, meaning compressors and mic pres and effects as instruments," he explains. "When you start combining all these things — the keyboard into some mic pre you found in a pawn shop into some weird compressor into delay — you get some unknowable results. Chasing down that kind of shit is fascinating for me."
"I'd harbored hope that the intelligence that once inhabited novels or films would ingest rock," Lou Reed once said. "I was, perhaps, wrong." Like most Lou Reed quotes or songs or looks, he's both right and wrong. Most rock has ceased to even aspire to the literary. Traditional rock lyrics are the domain of the first-person diarist.