Probably a little of both. The song is an artful capstone to a thrilling debut album, one that is an ingenious fusion of sound and idea and a fearless celebration of second acts. You'll have to go a long way to find a record more unrelentingly brilliant than 'No Home Record' in 2019. The album has received positive reviews. With every year that passes after No Home Record —which, incredibly, is Gordon’s first solo album in 38 years of making music—offers evidence of her reinvention: Even longtime fans … Kim Gordon's restless artistic muse takes no prisoners, every track an uncompromising, experimental noise-work that builds on her years in Sonic Youth but lets her spirit run unfettered into new territories. She has frequently demurred that she is not a singer, but “singer” is far too limiting a word for what she does anyway. There are echoes of the Golden State's wide-open spaces and smoggy claustrophobia on No Home Record, but Gordon 's California evokes matte-black lowriders and aftershocks -- the seismic rumbles that loosely underpin each track suggest she recorded the album on the San Andreas Fault.
She and guitarist Bill Nace have three records under their belt as It’s safe to assume that not many people expected an overdriven trap banger with an African thumb-piano melody as one of the highlights of Gordon’s solo debut—but here we are, and “Paprika Pony” is enthralling: druggy and hypnotic, the kick drum like a cross between a sheet of thunder and a crumpled paper bag. Is the giddy chorus of “Air Bnb” (“Air BnB!/Gonna set me free!”) a sardonically peppy sendup of late-capitalist shibboleths, or a genuine celebration of second chances? You'll have to go a long way to find a record more unrelentingly brilliant than 'No Home Record' in 2019. The album was produced by Justin Raisen after the two met in an Airbnb, and is named after Chantal Akerman's 2015 documentary No Home Movie.
It’s the Kim Gordon we’ve always known, but in a … Gordon’s most trenchant truths are not in her words, but in her voice. After 38 years of making music, Kim Gordon’s thrilling solo debut lives at the vanguard of sound and performance, shot through with the beautiful, unsparing noise that has always defined her art.This isn’t the first music Gordon has made since Sonic Youth called it quits, in 2011. Over an ominous, skulking beat, Gordon half-mutters, half-whispers a free-associative path through the alleys of her mind.As much as Sonic Youth’s whirlwind sound could feel like a self-contained entity, there were occasional glimpses of the world outside, like Gordon’s karaoke-booth Robert Palmer cover on 1989’s Ciccone Youth’s Some songs are more low-tech—“Air BnB” is a mammoth slab of bluesy, atonal rock, “Earthquake” is a shimmering drone-folk opus—but the most exciting moments are giddy with the sense of worlds colliding. Whether heard on headphones or car stereo, the crushing bass and battering-ram drums feel like a protective exoskeleton—ideal armor for the days you simply cannot abide another living soul getting in your fucking way.Even at her most pointed, it’s the ambiguities that keep things interesting. In Sonic Youth, her voice could be a The best exploration of her voice’s capabilities is “Cookie Butter.” Zoom out, and it’s clear that the song’s interwoven “I” and “you” statements are meant to underscore the way miscommunication is threaded through human relationships. Her 2016 single "Murdered Out," the first hint that Gordon 's work as a solo artist might be very different than … “No Home Record” is both a cumulative milestone in Gordon’s sizeable body of work as well as an album beholden to no prior context. 8 No Home Record is the debut solo album by Kim Gordon. Noise, techno, and post-punk; custom-tuned guitars and battered MPCs; 808s and overheated bass amps—multiple strains of underground music history pushing together like tectonic plates, building up extreme pressure under the surface. The album’s energy, too, suggests a fusion of New York and Los Angeles, equally suited for stomping down a crowded city sidewalk and sitting in traffic. Up close, though, her two-word statements take on a hypnotic minimalism, the force of repetition leaching meaning out of the actual words: “I saw/I’ve known/I remember/I liked/I met/I awaken/I wish/I have/I suck/I approach/I fucked…” On and on it goes, Gordon not so much speaking the words as carving out the syllables with her teeth, until the phrases come to seem almost sculptural, like a series of small statuettes lined up in a row. Kim Gordon's restless artistic muse takes no prisoners, every track an uncompromising, experimental noise-work that builds on her years in Sonic Youth but lets her spirit run unfettered into new territories.