There’s something arresting about Feist’s haunting voice. Her new album Pleasure (with lead single of the same name) was released earlier this year. It’s edgy and raw featuring her signature sweet vocals. Also, it’s like 2007 all over again.
The Reminder was released in 2007. It’s hard to believe that was 10 years ago and we were just getting to know Facebook. I was sitting in an open plan marketing office, listening to the record when I received a notification that my half-brother would like to be Friends. I’d spent my entire late childhood and teenage years daydreaming about him and my half-sister. I’d met him once, a handsome young man studying something important at University, but she’d remained a faceless stranger. I knew that she worked in advertising because my mom once gave me a torn out magazine article. It described her as an independent female Mover and Shaker at a sought after agency, which fanned the flames for storylines over years of only-child daydreaming. And then just like that, there was a friend request from someone I didn’t really know but shared a surname and some DNA with. I didn’t breathe for a minute. Accept.
We made plans to meet up and before I knew it I was on my way to a Wimpy in a small farming town. That month I was listening to Feist a lot. Universal had just released my flavour-of-the-month record, and the fact that I was working on it made it that much better. It’s funny how memories get associated with music. The Reminder was supposed to be that great award-winning Indie record I forgot about and rediscovered one day. But just hearing her voice takes me back.
That day was overwhelming. I spent hours speaking with my brother. We danced around the issue of my dad and tried to find things we had in common. It was good. We both tried. And then around lunchtime, my half-sister showed up. I was ecstatic, so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. And in hindsight, such a fucking n00b. I wore all of the cozy family fantasies on my sleeve, and even though she kicked back skepticism at every opportunity, I soldiered on, trying to build that relationship. I drove the 2 hours back that day a little sedated and misty-eyed. Like a big secret had just been let out.
Over the next few months, I got to know my brother and his lovely wife. I introduced them to my husband and met my nephew. The blossoming romance was beautiful, we had heart-to-hearts about things that mattered in our lives and shared everything from painful experiences to the shape of our fingernails. I put together a pack of CDs for them because sharing music is a privilege that brings people closer together. It’s so personal, and getting a new music recommendation right is the kind of curatorship victory I thrive on. Of course, I added Feist into my sister’s hamper. Because Indie is badass and you know, Fearless Female, etc.
My sister, on the other hand, remained aloof. My Friend Request was met with silence. Her Twitter profile was full of talk about forgiveness and change and empowerment. We Facebook Messaged a bit and there was a phone call or two. I can’t remember how, but she told me that she didn’t like the Feist album. She thought it was too girly, and not upbeat enough. I thought that was weird. It was such a cool record and practically everyone liked it. And just like that, The Reminder became an allegory for my relationship with my estranged siblings.
About a year later at their family farm, my half-sister insulted my husband. To be fair she didn’t insult him directly, but rather our relationship, saying that we’re together because I had father issues (there’s an age gap). I drove home disappointed and hurt, and the road was long. She’d made all sorts of assumptions about my life, from which she’d been absent, but I had done the same. My mind switched between self-doubt (why doesn’t she like me), and self-hate (why do I care). I visited my brother but stopped asking about her. We saw each other at my brother’s birthday party a few years later. It was awkward, but she was friendly. We talked a little after that, and then one day she told me that she didn’t want to know me.
It’s astonishing how you can let one person hurt you so much, without them even knowing. My half-sister doesn’t want to know me because we share the same father, something I literally have no power to change. My father has been trying reach out to them for years, with mixed success. He is a difficult and complex man, but his relationship with them has nothing to do with me.
I still love Feist but can’t listen to The Reminder in one sitting. Her new album Pleasure is superb though. It seems to have gone relatively unnoticed as there aren’t enough reviews for a Metascore rating despite an April 2017 release date. If you’re in a quiet mood you should definitely listen to “A Man Is Not His Song”. This year I’ve been slaying a few dragons in my life. I’m also trying to listen to more Feist.
“Sealion” is track 6 on The Reminder and is a super-classy, catchy AF cover of Nina Simone’s “Sea Lion Woman.”