Austra’s HiRUDiN Aims to Suck Out the Poison Wrought by a Leeching Relationship

Dichotomously named after the anticoagulant found in leeches, Austra’s fourth record, HiRUDiN, alludes to how a leech, or rather, a person you’re in a relationship with, can have both beneficial and fatal consequences. The latter occurring when you allow said leech to attach itself too long. Despite lead singer Katie Stelmanis viewing herself as the leech in the scenario of most of the songs in which she is begging and pleading for her lover to stay, or at least pretend to want to work things out, in the end, it’s clear she comes to realize that it’s the object of her affection who has taken on this role, sucking the energy out of her by not returning her love in a reciprocal fashion. 

So it is that “Anywayz” commences the record, adding to Austra’s haunting, visually evocative canon with lyrics such as, “And the world keeps turning anyways/The flowers come up anyways/The mountains rise up anyways/But what if we don’t?” The sense of tragedy about the song is a resonant evocation of how we can all tend to feel when a relationship ends. As though the world is crashing down all around us yet everything and everyone seems to be going on just the same.

As such, the video for the song, directed by Jasmin Mozaffari, is an echo of that sense of personal cataclysm one desperately wishes the rest of the earth could feel as a means of procuring understanding and empathy. Of the concept behind it, Mozaffari commented, “I wanted the video to feel as dramatic and chaotic as heartbreak can be, bringing this fear into fruition. The concept focuses on Katie as a heightened version of herself, sequestered inside a barren mansion that resembles a cage of her own spiralling thoughts. She resists moving on, yet as time persists and the outside world thrives, it eventually forces itself upon her.” Thus culminating in Stelmanis’ body being overrun with vines despite her decision to stay inside and let the world rage on without her (which rather reminds one of those who will continue to stay inside amid governmental assurances that it’s time to reopen despite COVID-19 not being anywhere near “over”). Regardless, it persists, and eventually finds its way into her sanctum to prove that she, too, in her own way has mended. 

Of the overarching theme of the record–toxic relationships–Stelmanis noted, “Prior to beginning to write I ended a few creative and romantic partnerships that I felt had in some ways been draining me for years, and I guess I had a lot to get off my chest that made it on this album.” Hence, the whole leech motif. Which also makes itself known on “All I Wanted,” punctuated by the carefully controlled rage in Stelmanis’ voice as she sings, “It doesn’t matter what you say to me/’Cause I’m leaving tomorrow/It doesn’t matter if you’re sorry now/’Cause I’m leaving tomorrow/You fucked it up, what you did to me/You fucked it up, when you lied to me/And all I wanted was your love.” Alas, love isn’t easy to procure from a leech-like character, content to suck the lifeblood not only out of one person but several (yes, that’s a reference to this person being perfectly content to cheat on Stelmanis with another). Featuring sparse string arrangements that allow the operatic nature of Stelmanis’ vocals to shine, the sense of yearning and regret can be felt throughout, yet, at the same time, we can also almost feel the moment when Stelmanis resolves to rip this leech off her. To release herself from the powerful clutches that have, in turn, allowed her to hold on in return for this long. 

“How Did You Know?” is awash in the synths that would make any electropop 80s band smile (to prove that music geekish point, Stelmanis remarked of recording the track, “I was able to double the piano part with synth to create this slightly trippy synthy-piano sound, but it’s actually a few layers of sound that are in perfect unison”). Succinctly capturing the reason why so many people in fledgling relationships stick around for well longer than they ought to, Stelmanis laments, “I’m in love with the feeling I had/From when we were stuck in a cloud.” Constantly convincing yourself that somehow, at some point, that honeymoon period of floating on a cloud will–has to–return at some point, you keep waiting. And yet, even when you finally find the strength to end it, to detach the leech the prospect of finding someone new somehow sounds even worse. Encapsulated by the depiction, “I look for a place to be happy but the city doesn’t change it/The only thing that’s different/Somebody new I met.” 

Continuing the moody and haunting synth sound is “Your Family,” a track that most overtly elucidates the reasons behind why Stelmanis had to detach herself from a relationship. For it is a “queer shame” narrative that, while only a taut one minute and forty-three seconds, elicits one of the peaks of agony of the record that comes from listening to it. Imagining (or perhaps already having experienced) how it feels for one’s significant other to hide you from their family, it strikes a nerve when Stelmanis goads, “And when your family comes back to town/Do you know what you’ll say when they ask about me?” The answer, of course, being nothing at all. A quick brush off to pretend that the person doesn’t mean as much as they really do. Hence Stelmanis rueing, “Goodbye to me” as a means to acknowledge her effective erasure from this person’s life who cannot be honest about who they are with their family. 

With “Risk It,” another single from the record, Stelmanis took the rare approach of actually pitching her voice to give it the higher octave sound of the chorus, during which she chirps, “Risk it, I wouldn’t risk it” (at times sounding like, “Christian, I love you Christian”). Risk what, exactly? Well, taking the chance on actually breaking up with someone who you know is bad for you in the long run. So it is that Stelmanis admits, “I feel ashamed/It feels insane to seek you endlessly” and “I’m struggling to keep you left of me/It’s slowly killing me/I know I should end it here with you/I’m too afraid.” “It’s Amazing” is bridged by “Interlude I” in between “Risk It,” so as to give the listener a pause to process the intense emotions that have just pervaded their own psyche. As Stelmanis explained, “I felt like I needed to have some interludes because, to be honest, I wrote so many songs that were so intense and I just felt like people needed a break.” Ambient and dreamy, “It’s Amazing” itself has a certain interlude feel as well, with Stelmanis stating that it was one of the first songs she wrote for the record, serving as a sort of sonic anchor to tie together every other track. So it makes perfect sense that it should find itself in the middle of the record. A brief respite from the sadness and the hardship that comes with extracting that leech and keeping the only useful part of it–the hirudin. The part that will fortify you for the future, for the next dalliance. And though it might not be as whirlwind or affecting as the last, it’s part of moving on. Climbing the mountain toward an unknown frontier without the person you originally thought might join you. On that note, Austra appropriately transitions into “Mountain Baby” featuring Cecile Believe. 

Detailing the challenges and difficulties of making one’s way to the other side of the seemingly insurmountable obstacle of getting to a point where one can finally exist without the “other” in a relationship, Stelmanis sings accompanied by a Charlie Brown-inspired children’s choir, “Climbing a mountain to get to the top/One and another keeping on/Not knowing why or what I might find up there/Scratches crawl up my legs from the desert trees.” But oh, after the desert, the oasis is real. The freedom from the burden of a person who could not love you as you needed to be. Such a sentiment segues seamlessly into “I Am Not Waiting.” Declarative and defiant, Stelmanis chants, “I’m over you.” The continuing thread of nature imagery throughout the record (most notably in the visuals for “Anywayz”) crystallizes here with the urging, “Run away from the trees/With your hands above your head/Run away like you never believed in anything else.” Except freeing yourself from that leech. More than somewhat sadly, considering that live music as we knew it feels like a thing of the past, Stelmanis commented of the song, “This was written basically for the live stage. I had written this record with a lot of pretty introverted songs, and I was like, ‘Okay, my career is playing shows, and these songs are kind of different than a lot of other Austra songs.’ I love having a high-energy show, so I was like, ‘I need a track I can play with a band and have fun with.’” It doesn’t seem like that will be happening anytime soon. 

The Blood Orange-y sounding “Interlude II,” filled with bluesy horns, leads into the final track, “Messiah.” Considering the “Second Coming” of a relationship that means as much to you as the one that affected you on the deepest heartbreaking level is bound to feel like a miracle, this title is more than apropos. At the same time, the message of the song is that the fatal flaw in many relationships is one or both parties trying to elevate the other to a Messiah-like status in terms of seeking someone to be your salvation, your end-all, be-all. This mode of thinking is sure to set you up for disaster. So it is that Stelmanis croons, “As I stand, I’m not a messiah/So take me down back to the ground/I’m not your answer/I can’t be your escape/You’ve raised me up, I’m in the sky/Don’t be surprised when I can’t deliver.”

Leaving us with these final words of wisdom for how to carry on in the next romance that finds you, Stelmanis proves, once again, that Austra has just as much to say as it ever did. In ironic contrast to 2017’s Future Politics, which Stelmanis worked on primarily in isolation (a more fitting approach in today’s climate), HiRUDiN was a more collaborative process. Working with producers Rodaidh McDonald, Joseph Shabason, as well as the partnership with Cecile Believe (who also worked with SOPHIE on her 2018 debut, Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides), Stelmanis accents, through this creative process, that the only way through a darkened tunnel is not alone, but with the help and support of others. It’s an important communiqué to take away during this time of isolationist thinking.

Genna Rivieccio http://culledculture.com

Genna Rivieccio writes for myriad blogs, mainly this one, The Burning Bush, Missing A Dick, The Airship and Meditations on Misery.

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