Santigold
Master of My Make‐Believe

Santigold, formerly known as Santogold. She abdicated that forceful nickname following the legal backlash from an obscure filmmaker, Santo Victor Rigatuso, creator of a sci-fi movie, i.e. Santo Gold's Blood Circus, ignored by any knowledgeable sources.

Santigold is a duo, let's say, of Indie Electronic formed by the captivating frontwoman Santi White and her co-writer, co-producer, John Hill. A duo lopsided in favor of White, more savvy than vulnerable, a native of Philadelphia.

The debut was in 2008, between Urban-Pop and Alt-Rock, a sort of anthology from a wide and reasoned contamination of genres: (Power) Pop, Dub, Punk-Rock, Ska Pop, Hip-Hop, Grime, House, Reggae, and Psychedelic-Rock. Produced by the team Diplo and Switch, of the much more famous M.I.A., her inevitable point of comparison. Also, the collaboration with session musician Chuck Treece of Bad Brains.

Four years later, the awaited follow-up, “Master of my Make-Believe”, with the axis on Indie Electronic, Alt-Rock, Alternative Dance. Indie features that aim to transcend the shady and null mainstream. Mrs. White stated, in a compelling manner: «I don't do R&B, unlike most of the other brown girls». Quite right.

White, who co-authors all the titles, seems to compose a welcoming self, with songs that have an elegant sense of construction. And they go as far as they can. Among long-desired illusions to unravel and hymns that entangle a vivid dream, but as in a fragmented mirror.

She presents her ego, only that, more than with poetry, she does it with afro beats, electro urges and pushes, surreptitious punk guitars, buried dub basses, Hip Hop sequences, pasturized Reggae, and, above all, wave synthesizers, longing for the '80s. Yes, strange to say, but the Wave matrix is somewhat the keystone, the essence of Santigold’s offering, though generously disguised as Hip Hop. Furthermore, White stated that the Smiths are her favorite band. However, the Smiths in this case are like thinking to not being less than a thought. Of the Manchester band, there's no trace in the artist from Pennsylvania's multicultural and multistylistic cauldron. There is ample space for ethnicities, somewhat included in the main plots, somewhat juxtaposed.

Too broad, too iridescent, too mobile. The Santigold style, then, flows like an underground river. The tracks are heterogeneous, but cohesive. There's a chilly sense of form. A bit of the artifice shines, a bit of the feeble melody, yet expansive. Colors like dust in the sun. Cold. But attractive.

Curious and paradoxical is the commuting between recording studios across half of America and the whole of California, which lead to the 37 minutes of the album. Just like the plethora of collaborations: among the musicians, Nick Zinner (guitarist of Yeah Yeah Yeahs), Dave Sitek (of Tv on the Radio) and Greg Kurstin (of The Bird and the Bee and producer of Beck and Flaming Lips). Among the producers, pre and post, apart from herself and Hill, we mention Diplo, Switch, Boyz Noise, Buraka Som System, Q-Tip, and... better to stop here.

The theme of the record, heuristic, according to White is «the ability of each person to create their own reality». In this liquid era, okay, otherwise we could have talked about the ability of each person to manufacture their own destiny (“Homo faber ipsius fortunae”).

More simply, the work responds to the need to be current and out of time at the same time. The hyperrealist modernity of sounds, the timelessness of textures. Of combinations. So, here and there, the birth of a look, or a word, their course, and conclusion. Part of a rough, suffocating, disillusioned universe, in which to seek one's own liberation. The soundtrack of an underground everyday life. Certainly, a closed, moist smell. A veil of worldly blindness; a theorem of lives lived feverishly, “street-smart”.

Naturally not missing:

«Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay …

Awwww …

Oh-Ah, Oh-Ah

Ya Ya Yo

Oh La La La La La La

Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey, Heya

Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha.

And a nice “Tick Tock, Talk That Shit Non Stop” (In “Big Mouth”)».

Among the tracks, I would note the first three.

The initial “GO!” an obsessive and hectic nursery rhyme, similar to a race through spasms. It utilizes the modulated gasps of Karen O, the singer of Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and a stomping sample taken from “Joyo Can You Hear Me part 1” even by The Visitors.

“Disparate Youth” is really a beautiful single. A disturbed, ferociously catchy melody, scratched by the disturbing hums of the electric guitar of a pretentious punkster.

“God From The Machine”, a dark mantra with stone-like, sharp percussions; an imperious Fusion march to seal a compact initial triptych, which almost makes us hypothesize a masterpiece, which –however- the continuation, as valid as it is, cannot confirm.

Let's add “The Keepers”, a protest song, a distant descendant of “Volunteers” by Jefferson Airplane. It takes a melodic line from "Little Red Corvette" by Prince and a verse from the Talking Heads. A catchy, sunny melody, for a not very reassuring text: «We're the keepers, while we sleep in America our house is burning down».

Here's Santigold, in summary: an unobtrusive female icon, talented, pleasant singing, satisfying, not dazzling, subtle abuses of falsetto, but providential.

Excessive, eccentric style, rejected by trendy R&B, which still shows ample margins. Her third work, released in 2016 (after another four-year gestation!), freeing itself from the Grime and Hip Hop patina, will lean towards a renewed signature, for a fluid rosy ethno-wave-pop.