There are two types of songs on Native Speaker, Canadian quartet Braids’ debut album. Both types manage to shimmer, delicate in their retina-searing brilliance, and yet, there is a marked difference between the two.
This difference is a peculiarity in itself. It’s a difference that you don’t usually find within a selection of songs meant to be sold together. It’s not shallow - say, just in the style of vocals or the instruments used - and it’s not even in the song-writing or the layering of sounds or the tone of the songs.
What separates Braids’ 'great' songs from their 'good' is their unsuppressed - and, arguably, unsurpassed - sexuality. Seriously. This is no joke. Braids bring a whole new meaning to the term ‘aural stimulation’.
In fact, at moments, their music is so awash in a tide of sensuality - so fulsome and flirtatious - that it's near impossible to keep your cool as you listen.
This, at first, seems just like a difference in the composition and tone of the music, but the smouldering atmosphere that Braids create on these tracks is mesmerising. The raw tension that builds in these songs - in Native Speaker and Lammicken- seems to flood the remainder of the album in latent sexuality. It’s these songs, humming with desire, that create a foundation for the rest of the album to be built upon.
This sexuality, however, is not that NIN 'Closer' sexuality we are all so… fond of. I can assure you there's no 'I want to fuck you like an animal' here.
Well ok - so there may be a hint of 'I wanna feel you from the inside' but Braids’ style of music is somewhat more refined than NIN. Though you may catch Raphaelle Standell-Preston singing 'Have you fucked all the stray kids yet?' or 'Of having you inside me', she lives up her name - her voice soaring with the purity of an angel both in tone and innocence. Even when unashamedly exploring sex, the band maintains what is almost a pure promiscuity (a saintly smuttiness, perhaps?).
What I'm trying to say is that there is nothing dirty about Braids music (though I can't vouch for Braids themselves) and you just can't help but feel that the tone of the album comes not from sexual debauchery, but from their total honesty in handling emotions and desires.
On a more basic level, though, Braids' sound is all about rolling, tidal, undulation - whether in obvious vocal and instrumental patterns or in the slow climax and anti-climax of their song structures - and they use soft, subterranean instrumentation to produce the hazy twilight of desirous tones that perpetuates their music. Though some songs are more upbeat and self-propelling, you can always feel that undercurrent of motion - the rhythmic, rapturous progression of their love.
Don’t get me wrong - the entire album isn't just one sexual fantasy. I don’t even want to get into the difficulties of sexualising Same Mum. But, regardless, there is a perceivably amorous atmosphere. I might be coming across as some kind of hormonal teenage boy right about now, but before you judge me listen to the album. Just listen.
Lammicken is bone-tingling; passionately moaning into life; shuddering with inevitability as the song’s single lyric 'I can't stop it.' is transformed - Preston playfully experimenting with her heady vocals. This stuff is porn for your damn ears - building slowly and subtly into a shrieking climax, then subsiding, leaving you, emotionally spent, to reflect upon its ecstasy.
The title track, Native Speaker, is also titillating in every way - from its lurching, velvet backing, to its sensual lyrics - and once again the vocals writhe with delight. When Raphaelle croons ‘But my my my my my... it feels good.’ it’s as if she is pouring her sweat-inducing fantasies into your eager ears and you‘re trapped - unable to do anything but lap up her rapturous secrets with the insatiable appetite of an illicit lover.
