Backbone > Ear Whacks

Nothing is Sexier Than the Strange
By Sharon Nichols Photo by Beth B;is

Weak is whack. Weak will tempt you to seek out your local carny. Celine Dion fans will not like anything about Weak. Bearded ladies will.

Weak is vanilla ice cream oozing from buttercups. It’s both fragile and strange. Weak is a tiptoe through a musical funhouse, each song a mirror reflecting a different face. These faces are unknown and familiar at the same time. Who do these faces belong to?

You. Me. Anyone. But more specifically to Hudson-based composer Antony Widoff, a mysterious, intriguing, and somewhat sequestered individual whose musical cabaret is a thwack in the face of traditional explanation or mainstream approval. When hard pressed to describe his music, Widoff throws off words such as "eerie", "provocative", and "down-tempo dream pop". But dissecting his work by using words isn’t something he’s zealous about.

"What’s weird?" he asks. "What’s normal? Normal is pretty weird if you take a good look at it. Normal is often downright frightening. Weird is actually not weird at all. Weird is incredibly natural." By examining definitions and language, Widoff concludes that the meaning behind words is often inverted and ultimately meaningless. "If you ask me to describe my music, I say ‘you tell me'. Ultimately, talking about music isn’t satisfying. Music helps us get away from talking."

So, what is Weak? Weak is a word describing a cd, a project, a man and, eventually, a band. But why the name? Widoff suffered from chronic fatigue for a number of years, brought on by mercury toxicity. Nine months of intravenous chelation therapy brought dramatic improvement in energy levels, as did developing a tai chi practice for grounding. But the underlying meaning of Weak goes deeper.
"This culture has a way of presenting an image of strength that we’re preoccupied with, even in pop music," Widoff explains. "There’s a lot of bravado. A sense of power is something we desire in both mainstream and alternative culture. In general, humanity is on a pretty heavy power trip. We think it’s okay to exercise our will on the planet, and we’ve set up a situation where we have this incredible interdependence. A lot of that is the byproduct of technology, which is supposed to empower us more, but ultimately we end up in a far weaker situation. Weakness is something that’s not often examined. The weakness that’s looming around us needs to be paid attention to, it needs to be honored in some way."

Trip back to the days when people got off on cheesy home organs. That's the era in which Widoff best manifests his offbeat power. He’s in his element in front of the quirky vintage synth or fat-sounding, slip-out-of-tune keys from the ‘80s. Recording on 24-track analog at Kenny Siegal’s (Johnny Society) Old Soul studio, Widoff hedged himself in with the craziest old keys—Fender Rhodes, Mellotron, Minimoog, Clavinet—and drum kit and guitar, orchestrating as he went. Adding vocals that are sometimes intensely beautiful and mournful, other times frightening, the inverted meaning of "weak" turned out to be especially potent, resulting in an eponymous 12-track cd released on Rompu/Fang Records. But potent for whom?

Beware of flowers and frogs. The CD Weak cracks wide open with "Anxiety", a diabolical sounding track that hardly eases the listener into Widoff’s world in a cushy way. It starts out innocently enough, with sparse guitar. Then Widoff’s angst-ridden vox creeps in, barely above a whisper. "He’s hitting the animals again / they’re running away from him / he’s frightening the children." A little synth. then boom!—three-headed lobster boy walks by. Not in Kansas anymore. This place is formidable and mad. "He’s envious of happiness," Widoff emits at song’s end, as he lets you off his spooky carousel ride. Then step right up, ladies and gentlemen, into the shimmering swirl and dreamy, silken flow of romantic "Regrets"—a distinctly different mirror.

"When you’re feeling alienated from the world and people are having a good time, there’s definitely a feeling of envy," explains Widoff, referring to his experience with the physical challenge of fatigue. "It was very depressing being unable to fully participate in the world because you don’t have the energy. You feel isolated and envious. At some point, I couldn’t imagine getting better. It was like falling off a cliff and there was no bottom."

"Pleasure" rests upon the deep orchestral bass groove of Widoff’s antique Oscar keyboard. "Nothing better than / to modify our brain / find a different point of view," he sings with eerie echo. "We sanctified the pain / ‘cause it felt like something new." One might suspect this one’s about drugs, but not entirely.

"That’s part of the equation," he says. "A desire to experience some fantastic sensation in the body is often followed by a disastrous, plummeting feeling. Addiction is deeply integrated into our culture. No matter where you turn, there’s one form of it or another. Alcohol is the most popular form of extreme damage. In moderation it can be enjoyable, but clearly the culture at large has a serious problem with it. The attractiveness of it is obscene when you think of it in those terms. The question then is: Are we really seeking pleasure here? If we’re doing ourselves damage, what is it we’re really doing?" For Widoff, the meaning behind "Pleasure" also heralds back to his pallid days when even a simple joy such as eating was no picnic.

Another Weak theme is relationships, as in the rhythmic, percussive train ride of "Wide World," and the quirky soul nouveau and salient hand percussion of "What Brought Us Together" ("Nothing is sexier than / the strange"). His Lennon/McCartney cover, "Here, There, and Everywhere" is painfully delicate. He admits to being squeamish about putting so much personal baggage and belly-gazing out there on his first release, but other topics will surface on upcoming releases—Widoff has enough material to record two more cds at present. "There are still problematic personal issues, relationships gone bad, doubts, but I’m starting to look into the outer world. The Weak stance is one where looking inward is the starting point."

Widoff is reluctant to talk too much about the technical aspects of his work. "I like to leave it to the imagination. That’s where music lives, in the imagination. It’s a pity that people have so much information to clog their minds with, especially about things as ineffable as music. There’s something satisfying about knowing who played what note on what song—when, where—but ultimately people are interested because the music means something to them. I’d like to give it in the pure form, and if someone likes it we can get crazy about the details later."

He’s unpretentious about his musical background and past projects, though names like David Bowie and U2 pop up. "I’m even less interested in talking about that," he says. "Most of it is unrelated to Weak. It’s a different world; those projects were just a way that allowed me enough time and energy to do this project. It’s not part of the same family."

Widoff was compelled to create Weak for one main purpose: it simply wouldn’t leave him alone. But he’s torn between musical creation and doing something good for humanity. "I spent many years thinking there’s got to be something better I could be doing in my life. I’m not really sure that what I’m doing helps anyone, even me. Maybe it just reinforces bad habits, it’s hard to say. It may represent valid feelings that need to be exorcised, but I’m not sure it’s an activity in the service of others. I believe that ultimately that is really where it’s at. It’s the best use of your time."

As a child Widoff spent his time listening to the same recordings over and over. He admits to having his first spiritual experience this way. "That’s another reason I’m doing this," he says, professing a desire to present his art to those who also feel isolated and off-center. "I like pop music and certain staples of mainstream culture, but it seems pretty played out at this point. The people who are into all that already have plenty being made for them. There are a lot of people who don’t have a home in their culture and feel very alienated. That’s where my heart is. I feel a devotion to that group of people. This is where I feel my energy is best placed."

For now, Widoff serves the aliens. He still spends most of his time in his own movie—thinking, developing, and trashing old ideas. At the same time, he’s careful not to isolate himself too much. "I don’t go out a hell of a lot. Occasionally I’ll show up and do something, but I’m not good at being part of a certain crowd. I float from here to there, spending most of my time doing my own thing."
Nonetheless, the Weak man would like to come out and play. He’s deliberating the development of a Weak band by autumn; meanwhile, looking for solo gigs over the next few months. For the time, Weak is Widoff, and that’s plenty to chew on. To step into the Weak world, visit weakworld.com or purchase some truly idiosyncratic tunes at cdbaby.com.