Evanescence, My Guiltiest Pleasure

Ever since the eighties reached its zenith of straight-faced lameness and, in reaction, cynicism became the new fashion of youth culture, irony has become a tool we use to protect ourselves with. When we like something that’s considered overly sincere, unsophisticated or unfasionable in any way, we can’t help but feel the invisible aura of judgement diffusing from the souls of our closest companions, and sometimes we disguise our beloved unpopulars as ‘guilty pleasures’ or things that we only like ‘ironically’. This was the sort of thing I did for years when it came to things like Rhinestone Cowboy, or Carry On films, or Sailor Moon. But as I’ve gotten a lot older, I’ve taken aboard the now-obvious philosophy of people like heroic demigod Grimes, who openly eschews the idea of guilty pleasures and liking things ‘ironically’, and simply likes whatever she dares to like without fear of reproach, whether it’s Dolly Parton, Beyoncé, Insane Clown Posse, or anything else that insecure music nerds are destined to hate.

Evanescence are a band that falls gracelessly into this category, and they're probably one of the few bands I really, honestly am still super into that I feel a decent degree of shame for liking. Now a long-forgotten relic of the 2000s nu-metal dark age, Evanescence leapt on the pop-metal bandwagon with a combination of overproduced, chart-friendly grooves and occasional death riffs with weepy gothic melodies, and I was a huge fan of theirs back in my early teens, when I was an archetypal member of their core demographic. As I grew up, I couldn’t help but notice that my love for Evanescence didn’t shed away and die like most of the things I blindly adored before I grew stronger critical faculties, and now I can’t help but feel like I’m admitting to having a serious psychological condition when I tell people that I think they’re awesome. I mean, I can understand the aversion that people have towards them; most people who like metal with any modicum of sincerity will be sickened by the castrated, plasto-pop version of the genre that the band encapsulate, and people who require their music to be deeply meaningful will be put off by the mawkish, adolescent, I-want-to-die (quote) attitude of their lyrics and image.

However, as a genuine fan of decently-made pop music, which will forever attract the derision of the music lovers I choose to associate with, I can see the appeal of a band which are pure pop, as in verse-chorus-verse, catchy-but-shallow pop, with a soft-metal centre and quasi-gothic lyrics as told through the mind of a fifteen-year-old girl. It’s a winning formula, as far as I’m concerned. There were a gazillion bands at the time who were also chart-hitting nu-metal with female vocals, such as Flyleaf, Lacuna Coil, Nightwish, Within Temptation, etc, etc – all of which share a place in my heart – but, for some reason, Evanescence outshone all of them and creeps the closest towards the abstract threshold of genuinely ‘good’ music, at least in my opinion. The biggest reason for this is probably Amy Lee, the frontwoman who won the hearts of a million mopey virginal teenagers about a decade ago. Her emotive, Elfmanesque piano melodies, her voice like a cascade of steaming hot tears, and her believably genuine weird-girl-at-high-school presence all gave Evanescence an indescribable completeness that I happily bought into.

Well, that and the fact that they had some decent bangers, as well, since nothing speaks volumes for a band’s credibility than a selection of well-made tunes. ‘Bring Me to Life’ was the barnstorming post-90s-edgy anthem that put them on the map, but there’s also the irresistible groove of ‘Sweet Sacrifice’, the angsty anti-superficiality of ‘Everybody’s Fool’, the orchestral grandeur of ‘Call Me When You’re Sober’, or just ‘Going Under’, for fuck’s sake. But if there’s any Evanescence song that actually reaches the glorious achievement of being something that I consider objectively good, even if you haven’t the tolerance for the dubious quality of the rest of their stuff, it’s got to be ‘My Immortal’. My Immortal is an actually, seriously, no-joke excellent song. Written entirely by long-gone band member Ben Moody (although Lee wrote the bridge, which is also pretty great), it’s a straight-up, heart-clutching piano ballad about a complete inability to come to terms with loss, being swallowed entirely by overwhelming grief, losing the frail remnants of your sanity, and never, ever, ever being able to get over it. I love My Immortal because it was a smash hit, a bona fide chart-topper, about a sadness with no redemption, without any possibility of hope – just unremitting, ceaseless grief. Some people might find it sentimental, but I think it’s absolutely beautiful – beautiful melodies, tenderly sang, and produced with surprisingly subtle perfection. It’s also the least nu-metal Evanescence song, which probably helps its case, although there’s an unnecessary but still kinda-great ‘band version’ to remedy that, if you really want.

Despite their commercialised, cheese-bloated place in the grand history of the American pop industry, and the fact that they’re often thrown, unfairly I’d say, into the same classification as genuine shite like Nickelback, Evanescence definitely have something about them, at least compared to the other bands of the time who found success with similar sorts of melodic, feminised metal. Whether their songs are authentically written with feeling, or simply coldly churned out to pay the bills, most of what I hear on the first two albums (there was another in 2011 but I haven’t surrendered the effort to check it out) at least sounds honestly composed, almost as if they’re about things. And I have a real affinity (for the most part) for mainstream, easily-digestible metal, which aims for all the heave and the atmosphere of my beloved ‘real’ metal but with severe cutbacks on the doom and the aggression, making way for things like catchy pop melodies and song structures which are shamelessly easy to find an innocent satisfaction in. I guess that if there’s any overall message to this blog post, aside from being a neurotic defence of my love for a band many consider to be little more than an irrelevant joke, it’s that things like commercial pop music and overly sentimental gothic metal aren’t necessarily devoid of their own merit, just because people who listen to Four Tet will probably try to make you feel bad for liking it. There’s a goodness to be found in all types of music, except like Nazi punk or something, and you shouldn’t let something’s inherent lameness get in the way of your enjoyment of it. Your life will be all the more awesome for doing so.

MØ

Formed from the dualistic philosophies of the punk-rock squats of Copenhagen and the commercial charisma-pop of the Spice Girls, MØ, real name Karen Marie Ørsted, is a singer-songwriter hit machine who you may know best during the course of this year’s summer for lending her talents in badassery to the smash hit Major Lazer/DJ Snake collaboration ‘Lean On’, which is currently drilling itself into the skulls of retail workers all across the globe. ‘Lean On’ is a work of earth-shaking pop genius, and her first true mainstream breakthrough, which, to anyone who’s dived into her sensationally infectious album of last year, No Mythologies to Follow, will come as no surprise, and in fact her chart-topping destiny may have seemed almost inevitable. MØ is the freshest face of the purest enjoyment of music – melodic pop tunes with a razor-sharp bite, and her collection of endlessly gratifying songs are definitely worth your attention.

Although there’s still plenty of time for her envelopment into mainstream America to corrupt her and squeeze out the pure youthful attitude which makes her such an inspiration, MØ (pronounced something like ‘Mooh’, although native English speakers are doomed to massacre it) is probably one of the best pop priestesses around at the moment. ‘Mø’ is old Nordic for ‘maiden’, described by Ørsted herself as about ‘trying to maintain the child within you, even though you go out in the world and... grease yourself up’, and this concept of seeing things from a youthful, innocent perspective is clear as day in the persona that Ørsted creates on her album and in her collabs, combining an optimistic surety of oneself with a sirenlike vocal beauty and purity of purpose. On the soaring chorus of ‘Glass’, she bemoans the transience of life with her cry of ‘oh, why do everyone have to grow old?’, and on the life-affirming ‘Walk This Way’, she talks nostalgically of ‘longing for the sweet sound of my mama’ and her mum’s affirmation to her that ‘there’s a light for you, burning for you’, giving her, and the vicarious listener, a lightning strike of real go-get-'em inspiration.

This innocent character, combined with her ferocious confidence and the intelligence of her songs’ lyrics, is probably what makes MØ such an irresistible and likeable personality, which shines from the music like the sound of a human soul. While Ørsted writes and performs all of its songs, No Mythologies to Follow was produced in its near-entirety by Ronni Vindahl, and it’s an astounding piece of track construction, dense with all the things you’ll recognise from a million songs available in the last five years, but created with verve and feeling. Despite the criticism for its comparative unoriginality, its awareness of the pop swamp from where it originated is what makes it so readily accessible, plus it’s loaded with killer hooks, and pretty much everything on the tracklist is a winner and will grab you firmly by the proverbial bollocks. But as Pitchfork’s review of the album decreed, ‘it works because a likable persona is something you just can’t teach’, and there’s never any doubt that the magic behind the album’s gorgeousness is in MØ’s powerful voice and domineering presence, tearing up the sleeper hits of ‘Slow Love’, ‘Pilgrim’ and ‘Maiden’ and ensuring that the album’s plethora of bangers will be bubbling back into your subconscious for many years to come.

No Mythologies to Follow is kind of a masterwork in my opinion, both emotionally resonant in its girlish tirades over boredom and heartbreak, and enthrallingly vibrant with an unshakeable confidence. I’ve fallen in love with it, and MØ is one of my favourite artists from the new wave of female singer-songwriters who've learned their tricks from studying a childhood of ultra-commercial, hook-laden 90s-00s pop music. I’m not exactly sure of the direction MØ intends to head now that it’s been more than a year since her debut album with a perfect match of a producer, and her recent fare has come from collaborating with members of the pop establishment like Iggy Azalea, and as much as ‘Lean On’ is an unstoppable hit and a sweltering summer anthem (as well as, fuck it, a great song), I can’t help but be cynical as to where MØ’s journey from indie-pop to ultra-pop will take her next. But whatever the next single that she decides to lend her beautiful vocal cords to, it’ll still be highly likely that she’s the best thing on it. As for the possibility of another album, I’ll be pleasantly surprised if it holds the same wealth of hits that her first LP has, but I’m nonetheless excited. In the meantime, turn up the volume and let ‘Walk This Way’ gift you with a reason to live.