Tanya Tagaq
Animism
27 May 2014
Six Shooter
4.5 stars out of 5
Most of us first heard Inuit throat singer Tanya Tagaq’s
amazing vocal acrobatics ten years ago on Björk’s Medúlla, on which she contributed to four tracks and co-wrote one (“Ancestors”),
but Tagaq has developed a solid career of her own over the past couple of
decades. Animism is her third album,
and her first since 2002’s Auk/Blood.
Yes, she covered the Pixies on it; yes, she won the Polaris Prize for it
(joining such company as past-winners Godspeed! You Black Emperor, Arcade Fire,
Fucked Up, and Caribou); and yes, she said “Fuck PETA!” in her acceptance
speech (as everyone should, really).
If you’re one of those types who is looking for something “traditional”
or “folksy” and is attracted to Tagaq simply because she’s aboriginal, do
yourself a favour and look elsewhere (and also go fuck yourself). For starters,
Tagaq doesn’t perform throat singing in the traditional manner, being a sort of
competition between two women; rather, Tagaq sings solo, and she allows herself
free reign to explore the possibilities that this method of singing offers. Oh,
but if it’s not traditional, then it’s not authentic, you say? Again, go fuck
yourself. The aboriginal peoples of the world are not museum pieces for you to
collect, nor are they under any obligation to remain “traditional” for your
entertainment. Tagaq is just as free to draw from European classical tradition
as she is to draw from her own people’s, and she does. Animism sees her gleefully appropriating all sorts of instrumentation
of European origins, from violins to snare drums, and she incorporates them
into her own unique blend of West and North.
Tagaq’s compositions are ambitious, to put it mildly. Many
tracks here, such as “Flight” and “Damp Animal Spirits,” are classical pieces
with all the experimental vigour of Schönberg or Webern. When she adopts more
pop-oriented structures, such as “Fight” and the Pixies’ “Caribou,” she pushes
things to the limit as well, paying attention to every last corner of every
verse. There’s no dead weight or extra fat in a Tagaq song. Every moment is a
work of art, and the album as a whole even more so.
reviewed by Richard Krueger
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