15 August 2011
“Neurotic exotica. That’s my genre.” Gotye’s eyes light up as he describes the music that has shaped his past decade.
This week, Gotye (aka Wally De Backer) will release his third full- length, Making Mirrors: the product of four years of self-psychoanalysis and op shop record samples. Slated for a June or July release, the album was put on hold to furnish indie’s most notable success this year so far, the chart topping, Gold certified Somebody That I Used To Know.
Written throughout October and November last year, the single -a bitter reflection on De Backer’s past relationships - became a two-person story in need of a female parallel. The sweet melismatic pop of fellow Melburnian Kimbra completed the single perfectly, a part that his current other-half had ironically auditioned for.
“Her voice just was not right for this kind of character. It just didn’t have the same feeling to it, it just didn’t work,” he admits. “When I asked Kimbra to do a demo I was like ‘Yeah, this is gonna be great!’” The overslaugh was met with the reaction you’d expect from a girlfriend of four- years - an understandable sting.
“I think there was a little bit of hurt there. It was like ‘Wouldn’t it be great if we could do a song together?’ But it was weird, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend and we’re singing this heart-wrenching breakup song. It almost didn’t have the right resonance from the start.” As further proof of his formidable relationship, De Backer then decided to make his music video debut a momentous one: With Kimbra, naked. Clocking over 1.3 million views on YouTube to date, De Backer jokingly puts the ease of filming down to his European background (he moved to Australia from Belgium when he was two) but then explains his need to accompany the track’s theme with the same stripped-back (pun intended), soul-baring (also intended) forthrightness.
“It definitely felt right to step out and sing directly; because I think if I’d done a clip that kind of escaped the directness of the song, that would have been a bit weak.”
In fact, much of Making Mirrors carries the same thematic standpoint; De Backer used his music to work through the self-reflections that plagued him - with each track’s resolution came the closure of another rumination.
“Sometimes when you look back on songs you’ve finished, especially the more personal ones, they solidify things you’ve been mulling over and chewing on so they can hopefully provide a bit of detachment from them,” he says as if referring to someone else, before adding, “that’s how I feel about it which is nice.”
To guide this detachment, De Backer recorded the bulk of the album in a makeshift barn-turned-studio on his parents’ farm. He approached the creation of Making Mirrors just like his previous efforts: entirely solo, in self- imposed seclusion.
“[I] produce, write, arrange and play in a fluid process by myself in my own time, and strike ideas as they come up and work through the barriers rather than seek assistance,” he says with pride. “Other artists, that’s not what they do, they need a producer to create that exciting piece of music; horses for courses, I guess.”
Perhaps one of the only similarities between De Backer and the onslaught of singer/songwriter projects congesting radio airwaves is his amicable use of public platform as counsellor’s couch. “They say songwriting’s cheaper than therapy,” he shrugs facetiously, “and then you can go on tour and relive it!”
In between the handful of festival slots he will play over the coming months, his Animated Album Preview at the Sydney Opera House will pose one of the biggest live challenges.
It won’t stem from the sheer size of the animated production - which also features a 10-piece band - but rather the pressure of performing new track Giving Me A Chance. Written about going against all his principles and morals, opening these scars in a live setting doesn’t sit right with De Backer.
“I’m going to play it solo live and I don’t know how I’m going to feel about that. It’s a pretty rough one,” he acknowledges. “I don’t know if I could actually engage with it every night with what I’m really expressing- playing something bare about something I’m not proud of.”
After much deliberation about whether artists owe their listeners the exact emotions that fuel fan favourites, De Backer came to a decision out loud.
“Do I owe the sometimes random people who have decided to pay money to invest in my music and come see a show? I don’t owe them anything up front to have a certain level of honesty,” he says. “I’m just creating something that has an engagement factor for me, that I think is interesting, challenging and expresses something.
“But it’s odd sometimes wondering where that line is about some imaginary responsibility to the truth of your own experiences, and delivering that somehow as unadorned as possible. I don’t really think the artist has that sort of responsibility.”
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