Marry Me
On Marry Me, St. Vincent’s Beggars Banquet debut, we see a smartly crafted deluge of guitar, bass, and beats pulsing forward with warmth and immediacy alongside Annie’s classy soprano.
Her lyrics can be weird or tongue-in-cheek or dead serious, capturing verily what it feels like to be 24 years old in America and caught up in the delirium of love blues and wartime blues and the various swashbuckling adventures of existence. Horns and strings cry out brassy and full-bodied over digital keyboards. Songs rock out vigorously, break down into squiggling post-noise-rock deconstructions, roll out mellow and slow-flowing as a river. Backing harmonies and kiddie choirs loom in the distance, rise, and lilt above the stately grandiosity.
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Shipping & Returns
Marry Me
Marry Me
On Marry Me, St. Vincent’s Beggars Banquet debut, we see a smartly crafted deluge of guitar, bass, and beats pulsing forward with warmth and immediacy alongside Annie’s classy soprano.
Her lyrics can be weird or tongue-in-cheek or dead serious, capturing verily what it feels like to be 24 years old in America and caught up in the delirium of love blues and wartime blues and the various swashbuckling adventures of existence. Horns and strings cry out brassy and full-bodied over digital keyboards. Songs rock out vigorously, break down into squiggling post-noise-rock deconstructions, roll out mellow and slow-flowing as a river. Backing harmonies and kiddie choirs loom in the distance, rise, and lilt above the stately grandiosity.
Original: $13.58
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$4.75Product Information
Product Information
Shipping & Returns
Shipping & Returns
Description
On Marry Me, St. Vincent’s Beggars Banquet debut, we see a smartly crafted deluge of guitar, bass, and beats pulsing forward with warmth and immediacy alongside Annie’s classy soprano.
Her lyrics can be weird or tongue-in-cheek or dead serious, capturing verily what it feels like to be 24 years old in America and caught up in the delirium of love blues and wartime blues and the various swashbuckling adventures of existence. Horns and strings cry out brassy and full-bodied over digital keyboards. Songs rock out vigorously, break down into squiggling post-noise-rock deconstructions, roll out mellow and slow-flowing as a river. Backing harmonies and kiddie choirs loom in the distance, rise, and lilt above the stately grandiosity.
