By Brad Simm
No Home Record
When Kim Gordon sings about the 47-inch flat screen TV, the Andy Warhol prints, Times Square photoshoots, and her super host on “Airbnb,” the tone of her voice is dripping with disdain. Ah, it’s wonderful to hear fresh criticism of the American Way and a full-frontal refusal to not be bubble wrapped in its deliciously good life.
No Home Record, Gordon’s first solo recording, ventures straight into a self-reflective state-of-mind that slams contemporary life against a wall of art. But what else would you expect from a visual artist, which Gordon also is. As the title suggests, she’s addressing the vacancy of living in her own country. She’s at home, yet alienated — there’s no home to be found. Welcome to Trumpland, a true sign of the times.
Gordon’s voice has faded. Her choppy one-liners and phrases that rip with instant recognition ooze with whip-smart wonder. With her finger on the trigger, you know exactly what she means by the defiant, “Murdered Out.”
Discordant pop — blissful when they got it right — was Sonic Youth’s trademark. While No Home Record is definitely Gordon’s own oeuvre d’art, she also has fulfilled the promise of where it all might have gone.
Best Track: AirbnbKim Gordon