What Means the World to You: 2015 in Musical Memories
September: Helen — “Motorcycle”
Something I think women are much better equipped to do than men is challenge expectations about what we consider to be beautiful. It’s probably a byproduct of being judged continually by such a singular, rigid rubric, but when a female artist sets out to warp and weft the concept of “pretty” into something more sinister, I usually perk up. That’s why Liz Harris’ brief, unexpected side project Helen drew me in so quickly. Songs off their short and sweet album The Original Faces emerged in late summer nearly out of nowhere, spelling hints of my native Northwest back in the name and a looming nod to Mount St. Helen on the album cover, and challenging my expectations about what dream pop and thrash could sound like if they came together. This was a month where I was trying to separate the strands of beauty and terror out of my own past experiences with someone, and to figure out which parts of me were beautiful, and which had to go. As I sifted through all this–mostly mulling over it on my weekend double brunch shifts–Helen was the ideal soundtrack. Particularly “Motorcycle,” because it comes and goes in a brief burst of gauzy, dream-like vocals and an undercurrent of aggression. At that point, that’s how I was viewing both the past and all my possible futures. Listening to Helen made the constant presence of two very disparate impulses feel okay. Black and white disappears so quickly when it comes to love and loss.—Caitlin White
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