(Indie Pop) Alex Winston - King Con - 2012, MP3, 320 kbps

A key fallout of the Lana Del Rey echo chamber of hype was the revelation that so many music critics let their fascination with A&R process amplify anticipation for an album to fever pitch. As the noise rose, so did the low-level snooping – and the questions became so loud that reviewers barely even required a copy of the album.
Alex Winston’s King Con is so flimsily constructed and devoid of imagination that a reaction can only follow as such. The intonation is purposely wacky, and it’s about drifters – "People you don’t really write songs about," according to Detroit-born Winston herself. But instead of offering allure alongside its social commentary, it just sounds desperate to be alternative. Quite how this became a marketable crux evades common logic.
The story goes that Winston named her album King Con after spending several months in an Elvis costume promoting her single Velvet Elvis, concluding that Elvis impersonators are the ultimate con. As if that wasn’t bombastic enough, there’s a sub-narrative on objectum sexuality – so far, so dizzying. But instead of allowing us space to fall for her strange obsessions, King Con merely constructs a space for Winston’s fleeting thoughts to stew in their own pretension.
The sugary sound of weirdness has become the adult version of bubblegum pop, as showcased by the shrieking soprano in Shock Me’s intolerable quirkfest. But where current bubblegum queen Cher Lloyd’s array offers excitement and curiosity, Winston’s own Broadway-tainted inflections come off cynical. There’s no path here to Winston’s thoughts, they’re just thrown at the microphone; a timely reminder that Lily Allen’s rare charm came from deft construction rather than a neat repertoire of references alone.
If the constructedness of King Con doesn’t isolate, the lack of fun ought to. Run Rumspringa (a ditty about Amish adolescence) could have been the song to step up to Winston’s oddball fascinations, but its enrapturing slow tempo sadly defaults to a saccharine jaunt. The lack of variation is lazy and transparent, even in the face of such buoyant harmonies.
A joyless listen in and of itself, sure – but moreover, this is a puzzling eyesore exemplifying quite how this process of constructing and immediately normalising eccentricity can still have an appeal.
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In a pop landscape filled with cartoonish characters and alter-egos, the first refreshing thing about New Yorker Alex Winston is her name. Confidence in her own skin is something Winston revels in and turns into her most powerful weapon on her debut record, King Con. Her songs are undeniably poppy and well-produced but reject the ice-cream gloss or ambiguity of many other contemporary pop artists. Instead there's a homespun feel here, and the layered production is stuffed with detail and component parts. It's an approach that makes the songs feel driven on piston power rather than Pro Tools.
Her voice is full of quirks, too, and more often than not she sounds closer to more alternative singers such as Kate Bush, Joanna Newsom, or even Karen O. Transplanting imperfect, personality-rich influences like this to a set of powerful pop songs is an interesting move and one that mostly pays off on King Con.
The sound that opens "Velvet Elvis" is a worn, gently warping vinyl stuck in a groove. This nostalgia wash acts as the bedrock for the busier elements that join the scuffle before bursting into a typically big chorus. Winston's narratives here and elsewhere feel just out of reach; they're fantastical but never come across as forced. That's thanks in part to the infectious feeling of excitement she gives off in each her performances. There's no hint of irony on King Con. There is a lot of heart, though, and there's something to be said for that in a realm of music where it's easy to feel manipulated. (That's not to say Winston doesn't pull some strings of her own. The togetherness in songs like "Medicine" and "Host" echoes the "us-versus-them" anthemic sway of a band like Arcade Fire.)
Despite being over a year old, "Locomotive" still feels like a highlight amongst this set, and the song hasn't changed a lot since we wrote about it last February. The edges have been heated up a little, and if anything Winston sounds even looser and more idiosyncratic. The song's feverish momentum is both a high point and vital characteristic of King Con, where each victory feels hard won.
The downside to the relentless energy is that the record can get tiring, particularly after the impressive, but front-loaded first half. "Benny" is the only restrained moment here; even that feels too brief and comes too late. A large part of King Con's charm is its confidence in direction, but toward the end, the sheer weight of similarly paced songs ends up dragging it down. For the most part, though, King Con's an enjoyable collection, one that presents Winston as an artist with a strong enough personality to overcome that dip and to stand out in a scene where it can be hard to make an impression.