Editor’s Note: Hello, and welcome to the DFO Guest Lecture Series!  Over the following weeks and months we’ll be welcoming some familiar faces from the NFL to speak to our readers about topics that are near and dear to their hearts.  This week we’re joined by one of the world’s foremost experts in that which is “hip”, Von Miller.  Thanks for joining us!

‘Sup.  I’m Von Miller.  Most you know me from my days in the NFL, most likely as the Most Valuable Player of Super Bowl 50.  But I’m also an avid music fan, and I wanted to talk to you today about a musician and vocalist that I’ve come to conclude is the greatest artist of the 21st Century.  I’m speaking, of course, about Annie Clark, known by her stage name and persona “St. Vincent.”

A lot of people will say that St. Vincent is successful entirely because of her very carefully cultivated image, that she’s more of a model than a musician, evidenced by her focus on fashion and seemingly endless array of excessively glamourous photoshoots.  They’ll point out that their argument is supported by the fact that she’s got great skin and teeth and a figure that isn’t really consistent with the rock and roll lifestyle that she claimed she needed a break from during her latest interview on NPR.  Other people will say that her oeuvre is “obnoxious” and “pretentious” and “conspicuously absent of the qualities that actually make music enjoyable” and “meticulously calculated to appeal to the type of people that credulously purchased tickets for the Fyre Festival for the primary purpose of posting photographs to social media that document their attendance and that enthusiastically declare their affinity for bands that don’t actually exist.”

First off, Annie been incredibly forthright that she’s got a medical condition – okay, maybe it’s not medical according to rigid scientific doctrine, but it’s a very real kind of thing from a psychic perspective – that makes criticism of any kind incredibly distressing and could invoke a panic attack if she’s exposed to it.  And sure, other people might complain that thin-skinned types of individuals use these purported conditions the same way that a genuine sociopath would use confusion about their gender identity and/or sexuality in order to insulate themselves from being publicly confronted about their reprehensible behavior.  But the fact is, if her public relations representative announces that interview questions regarding her father’s conviction and incarceration and release after releasing an album called “Daddy’s Home” make her uncomfortable and retroactively declares her responses to be “off-the-record”, you need to respect that.

But the biggest criticism of her is that her music is just plain bad.  And that couldn’t be further from the truth.  Before we get into that, take a listen to this song by the musician Windser:

Sure, it’s got all those things that a classical definition of music demands, like rhythm, and melody, and delicate, sensitive lyrics, and I guess the hook is kinda catchy if maybe a bit twee for some folks, but it’s just so commercial, man.  It sounds like something he got paid by the tourist board of the City of Palm Desert to write.  And I’m not going to judge him – you get that bag, my brother.  But compare that to something avant-garde like “Chloe in the Afternoon” by St. Vincent:

I know what you’re about to say to me: “come on, Von, that’s not music.”  And you’re right.  It’s not music.  It’s art.

The thing about art is that it doesn’t have to be paint on a canvas.  Art can be anything.  But here’s something to consider: what is music, fundamentally? It’s vibration – vibration of instruments, of vocal chords, that creates sound waves that travel through the air and eventually reach your eardrums.  In other words…vibes.  So if an artist is putting out the right vibes? Then what they’re creating has got to be good music.  Or at least…good art.

Another thing about art is that, unlike the radio-friendly commercial stuff you hear above, it’s not about money.  When you listen to St. Vincent’s music – I mean art – there’s no money changing hands (unless you count the royalties her record label sends to her, or the checks she gets from Live Nation).  It’s about expression.  She’s not doing this for the [makes cha-ching sound effect], she’s doing this because she needs to.  If she didn’t express herself through music, she’d go insane.

I mean, sure, St. Vincent’s music – excuse me, I mean art – isn’t the kind of thing you are going to put on while you’re driving, or at a party, or working out…it needs to be appreciated.  And I’ll be honest, sometimes it’s hard to find the time to appreciate it properly – I haven’t actually found the time to listen to her art in quite a while.  To be completely honest, this is my first time hearing “Chloe in the Afternoon” myself.  But would a middling talent whose entire career is based on the proper packaging on of her persona and musical output be named as the 26th best guitarist of all time by Rolling Stone magazine? You don’t think she’s got more skill on the axe than Bo Diddley, Brian May, Eric Clapton, David Gilmour, or Buddy Guy?

Think again:

Okay, maybe that’s not a good example of her guitar-playing prowess.  How about this?

Okay, but still…wait.  Shit.  Did I say St. Vincent? Sorry, I meant Vincent Gallo.  My bad.