Trevor Powers
Savage Hills Ballroom
Reviewed by: Max Miller
In the early days of Boise-based musician Trevor Powers’ career, his music, recorded under the moniker of Youth Lagoon, could (and was) accurately described as “lo-fi.” The musical experiments across his first two full-lengths flirted with all the trappings of hypnagogic pop, neo-psychedelia and in-vogue electronic aesthetics that would come to be known, for lack of a better term, as chillwave. In an independent scene still reeling from the influence of groups like Animal Collective and MGMT, Powers’ music hit a nerve.
Now, with his third LP, Savage Hills Ballroom, Powers has shed any trademarks of lo-fi recording while still maintaining his signature eclectic sound. Songs like opener “Officer Telephone” and lead single “The Knower” throb with a bass-heavy electronic pulse, often beginning minimalistically before Powers piles on guitars, horns, driving motorik rhythms and whatever else it takes for each track to climax with a thunderous crescendo. Tunes like “No One Can Tell” use a bevy of chintzy ‘80s synthesizer presets that recall Depeche Mode spin-offs like Yazoo and Erasure.
Youth Lagoon’s biggest potential weak spot is Powers’ love-it-or-hate-it voice. Thanks to the Boise connection, Powers’ vocals have been compared semi-frequently to Doug Martsch’s high-pitched yell, which isn’t entirely inaccurate. Powers, however, tends toward an androgynous ambiguity that recalls choir boys, or maybe even Prince’s squeaky performance on “Kiss.” I wouldn’t suggest Powers axe his vocals in favor of widening his appeal, but instrumental tracks like “Doll’s Estate” and “X-Ray” serve as a reminder that he could easily sell records on the strength of his production work alone.
Powers’ childlike vocals match Savage Hills Ballroom’s somewhat naive lyrical themes. “The Knower” sets up a series of dichotomies intended to be profound (“Everybody wants to think that they’re good at heart, when they’re full of hate,” “everybody wants to think that they won’t grow old, yet they keep aging,” etc.), but which largely fall flat. “Always” paints a picture of blue-collar workers repeating the same routine, all the while not recognizing that they could subvert the system that keeps them oppressed. Powers surely means it to be sympathetic and empowering, but it mostly comes off as condescending. Maybe Youth Lagoon could benefit from more instrumentals after all.
Rating: Semi-Obnoxious
