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Kimya Dawson - Hidden Vagenda The first time I heard Kimya Dawson's music was when my friend began playing her bootleg CD, 'My Cute Fiend Sweet Princess' in the car after picking me up one day. By the end of the second song, 'Velvet Rabbit', I let out an audible "holy shit" once or twice. I had heard one or two Moldy Peaches songs, but never picked up one of their CDs. I don't regret this, as Kimya's post-Peaches tracks are far superior in just about every way. The character of the music is so tender and funny, the wordplay so piercingly clever, the melodies so catchy and somber. I have never heard any songwriter put words together the way Kimya does, and her humble delivery caps it off. She manages to evade the goddess/bitch syndrome—no condescending, self-righteous worldview. No vaguely New Age spiritual babble.
After putting the Moldy Peaches on a "five year hiatus" she released her first official studio LP, 'Hidden Vagenda'. Vagenda is true to Kimya's established voice: it is tender, sad and cute. But it's not my favorite Dawson record; lacking in 'clever' and leaning too much on the gentle side.
I fear that it makes an inadequate introduction to her underlying genius, and the only way to fully appreciate it is by listening to her previous, unofficial recordings. She's intentionally holding back on the complex wordplay and twisted semantics. It's like, when you've been a Dylan fan for years, the ostensibly sappy and syrupy Christian and gospel records from the 8O's don't sound sappy and syrupy, but instead are infused with an honesty and intentional naiveté. I would not blame a newcomer, for instance, for pointing out the clichéd politics in the anthemic 'Viva La Persistence', a ballad about the destruction of the lives of her family and friends by corporations, materialism and greed, capped off with a long string of brand names and consumer goods that she feels are unnecessary. The song is only moving when you've acquainted yourself with Kimya's music enough to know why she is singing about this: not because it's novel or new or unique, but because it's genuinely how she feels and it's genuinely breaking her heart.
My favourite song on the record is 'I will never forget', which delivers a classically melancholic sound. It sounds strikingly like a medieval minstrel tune, but I'm not acquainted enough with European music to be able to identify it. The tales that Kimya weaves into it are grey, simple and disturbing. It contains a stanza about a mother who dies in poverty and whose dying gift is "your funeral on your son's seventh birthday", which is "the best thing you could ever give him".
As if to intentionally contrast the overwhelmingly slow paced and sad nature of the songs, Dawson includes two tracks that seem to be the token happy songs. One, 'Blue like Nevermind', is fun and catchy, sounding like something you would write with your friends while picnicking on a Saturday afternoon. In the other song, 'Parade', Kimya gets even more playful and sings about a chaotic scene in New York, in which strangers and friends all begin dancing, preening and being generally joyful because, hey, it's summertime. Even though both of the songs have a slightly forced playfulness to them, 'Parade' works in particular.
To conclude, all right so this might not be Kimya's absolute best material, but she's just so unique, that Hidden Vagenda is still really worth checking out.
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