Cliche Magazine April/May 2018 | Page 60

would not have had otherwise , because you are so out of your depth in a lot of ways . And I think that ’ s what happens to most people who come to New York . I might be wrong . Even if they come from within the United States . You ’ re just being thrown into the deep water .”
He ’ s come a long way since this initial move , hanging up his session guitar in exchange for various electronic instruments . Another split appears , this time between the acoustic and the electronic , but he does not see this one as being as defined as other aspects of his life . He began working with electronic sounds in New York “ out of necessity .” That ’ s essentially the only important difference he sees between the two genres of music ; while the ability to perform with a band or in a studio is limited , the possibilities of working alone on a computer are “ endless .” But that doesn ’ t mean he ’ s ever going to go completely solo , either .
Even though he describes himself as a micromanager when it comes to his sound (“ I certainly lead this band ,” he told me at one point ) he also views the experience of playing with a band as extremely collaborative :
“ It ’ s my project and they just have a lot of room in it , and the place they have in my music , I don ’ t have in my music . It ’ s theirs . But it ’ s my music . So that ’ s the way it has to be . I have to let them have this wiggle room and go wild , and then I have to kind of massage it into something that I feel makes the song work . That ’ s the fun of it .”
This quickly shifted into a conversation about the experience of watching a band perform , in general , and how remarkably different this can be from seeing a solo artist . In many ways , this is a difficult opinion to argue against . We both agreed that there is something cosmic about the moment where a band is able to come together — despite all of their split identities — and smile about hitting a note the right way .
“ That ’ s why I perform with a band . Basically , technology-wise , practically every artist can go on tour without a band . A lot of pop artists do that … You perform with a band so that you can have that moment with people , and then let people see it . I think it ’ s fucking beautiful , to be honest . I get really excited just thinking about it . It ’ s so worth the economical downside of moving around with a band and just the hardship of it . I think I need that . I need people to constantly criticize what I ’ m doing , even just with their faces , you know .”
It seems that this is the point where all of the different ends meet — in the music , itself . This is where the contradictions lie — alongside all of the questions , the answers , the personas , the risks , the consequences … you name it . The desire to be the leader meets with the need for external input . The performer collides with the producer , and the splintered selves must finally meet . New York becomes home , but Tel Aviv does not stop being home . The list goes on . But can that come as a surprise to anyone , really ?
O Mer described this notion of music performance as the safe space for the self-contradictory — the hyper-malleable — as intentionally inexplicable . He compared it to “[ looking ] at something , and [ letting ] your eyes go out of focus ” until something “ floats up to the surface ” and “ hits you from this totally unexpected place .” To him , “ it ’ s not concentrating on yourself , being isolated , or feeling everyone else . It ’ s letting yourself get lost in what is happening .”
This process of getting caught up in the moment is analogous to how O Mer views the term genre , which means little to nothing to him . When I asked if he would ever try to move away from the type of music that he ’ s been making , he gave me an answer that perfectly fell in line with what I expected from him :
“ I ’ m definitely interested in doing different genres , but for me , what that means is just changing the instruments — changing the tools . I ’ m not going to write as a different person or try to fit a different genre . I want to keep being myself . I just want to maybe try other things .”
He also mentioned that there “ there isn ’ t one artist that [ he likes ] that doesn ’ t do it every album .” This ability to transition it seems , for him , is reflective of talent . He brought up Elvis Costello as one example , and then I mentioned Bon Iver . We agreed once again ; these artists are great not because they have perfected a sound , but because they refuse to let the dust settle . Obviously , a conversation regarding chameleon-esque musical genius had a naturally progression towards Kanye West — an artist that O Mer considerations one of his biggest admirations .
We talked about My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy at length and how Kanye operates so unapologetically in his work . He compared him , briefly , to Dostoevsky when talking about art that functions under extreme anticipation :
“ I ’ m drawn to that type of art , generally . The type of art that gets you almost on the verge of exploding , where you ' re like , ' I have to know where this is going .' Like with music . I think Kanye has that , to be honest . All of his music is a lot of anticipation and a lot of pressure , and then a little bit of release . There something very dramatic about it .”
The Dirty Projectors also came up — Swing Lo Magellan , specifically . O Mer was completely in awe when talking about this work and how “ precise and aware of what it ’ s doing it is , but also free and naturally occurring .”
Ultimately , these are the types of works where all the individual threads meet — in this sea of undefinable stuff — and create large , inseparable tangles . It is at this moment that the whole band smiles . It ’ s something that cannot be rehearsed , and it ’ s the reason why artists like O Mer create music . BY LILLY MILMAN