A Race to my Downloads with Alex G

Alex G’s 2010 self-released album, Race, is an ode to the trials and tribulations of young adulthood. Released when Alex was a mere 17 years old, the pains of being a teenager growing up in suburban Havertown, Pennsylvania, shine through over beautiful melodies. A gifted songwriter, his extensive unreleased discography is the result of his love of music from a young age. Now, while I will not be getting into his unreleased tracks, there is a large, diverse collection of songs to get lost in that fellow Alex G fans have so graciously posted onto Youtube for the fandom to collectively gush over. Forewarned is forearmed, once you begin listening to Alex’s music, you’ll never want to stop. Personally, no matter how hard I try, I can never tire of his work.

This album is nostalgic, and much like the strangeness of adolescence, brutally honest and real. Listening to it feels like the gentle hum of ineligible radio static in a time of introspection: liminal, eerie, yet comfortable. On the fifth track, “Trash,” the background keyboard and xylophone sound is reminiscent of childhood toys, given to you by your parental figure in the hopes that you’ll occupy yourself for some amount of time. What Alex’s hand has created with the same instruments is far from messy, feeling intentional and charming.  

While the tune of melodic and warm acoustic chords are indicative of happiness, Alex’s words are tragic. The light and brisk guitar riffs, combined with dark lyricism echoed through effortless vocals, make for easy listening. These same riffs and lyrics also create room for discussion, leaving lyrics floating around in your mind long after listening. On track four, “Gnaw,” the sharp contrast between the upbeat tempo and sweet-sounding guitar riff, juxtaposed with dark lines such as, “Dry your eyes, I won’t tell your mother” and “I saw the tree, carved in it 666,” effectively intertwine within the song. This can be best described as bittersweetness. 

Alex sings effortlessly. He projects his lyricism without pretensions for conventionally beautiful vocals, but instead speaks, voice cracking and all. As though he is performing spoken word to the tempo of his guitar, Alex creates the effect of a conversational style of music. The seventh track, “Crab,” blatantly combines deadpan vocals with an upbeat tune to perform the thematic task of concealing apathy under the sound of bedroom pop. In it, he sings “Do you miss what you thought you were, back when you thought you knew what you are,” a projection of the uncertainty of self that inevitably comes with growing up—evidently, a topic on the mind of a seventeen-year-old high schooler on the cusp of being spit out into the world of adulthood.  

Race feels familiar and easy to listen to ambiently, potentially due to the reminiscent notes of Twee pop within Alex’s voice, but it is important to note his method of production. Like the majority of Alex’s work, the entire album was produced and recorded using GarageBand. Not only has Alex proclaimed himself to be addicted to the software, but the sound manipulation and layering created through it has become integral to his signature sound. 

For being created via GarageBand, there is also a great deal of experimentation that has gone on in the production of Race. Track two, “The Same,” marks the most electric guitar-driven of the collection with a whinier voice and, for lack of a better word, epic guitar riff. Track eleven, “Time/Space,” introduces some of Alex’s signature pitch-shifted vocals, acknowledging the temporary nature of time.

The album art features four human figures scattered across a level grassy field, with a background of a solid blue sky. While the figures are not isolated, they lack interaction, and loneliness emanates over the impractical happiness of blue-skies. The four people wander, the way you do when trapped in your suburban town, waiting for the time you can get out. At the same time, it recognizes that the nothingness you partake in is nonetheless a something-ness in the grand scheme of things. 

Alex’s debut closes with “Race,” the title track. As though encompassing the album, he murmurs his unadulterated sentiment, “it was about fear and getting out of here.” This song licks and seals the envelope containing Alex’s breakup letter to adolescence. Race is vulnerable, a vivid description of his dissociation from himself as he tears apart the very character that stood on high ground throughout the entirety of the album. The finishing line, “tear it down it’s not right,” is a perfect, final remark for art encompassing raw emotions towards his time on the cusp of young adulthood. It truly feels like an unruly race against time. On your marks, get set… go!

Article by Ally Flygare

Featured Image by Tim Da-Rin