Alexis Taylor - Piano

Pitchfork 71

On his third proper solo album, Alexis Taylor puts aside all semblance of pop affectations in favor of something totally sparse and infinitely more vulnerable: a record composed entirely of piano and voice. Recorded at Hackney Road Studios, the aptly-named Piano is not only the most straightforward thing the usually cheeky Hot Chip frontman has ever released, it’s also the most surprisingly personal. Taylor has always had a knack for embedding wistfulness and bittersweet melancholia into pristinely rendered pop songs. With Piano Taylor peels back any kind of artifice, offering a collection of songs that examine mortality, religion, and the creative impulse itself.

The album opens with “I’m Ready”—a song that correlates the creative process with a kind of expansive emotional openness. “Don’t you know I’m ready?” sings Taylor. “Don’t you know I’m healthy? Nowhere else I’d rather be/Nothing to protect me/No one to defend me.” The song, which is carried aloft by Taylor’s lovely but unfussy piano playing, speaks to vulnerability at the core of the record. The idea of emotional nakedness as reflected by this sort of stripped back, bare-bones performance style is certainly nothing new, but it’s a conceit that works nicely here, showcasing just how genuinely sweet Taylor’s voice actually is. This is particularly true on the record’s two standout covers—a take on Artie Glenn’s “Crying in the Chapel” (a song made famous by Elvis in 1965) and, even more odd and sublime, a gorgeous version of Crystal Gayle’s 1977 hit, “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.” Stripped of its more obvious gospel tropes, the former plays like a love song to serenity, a paean for the peace that comes with surrendering to a higher power or some great love. With his quietly non-ironic dissection of the latter, Taylor gets to the sticky emotional core of Gayle’s song—i.e. the pain of being tossed aside for someone else—and delivers it with devastating ease: “Tell me you love me and don’t let me cry/Say anything but don’t say goodbye.”

Of the original songs on Piano, the most interesting of the lot are oblique examinations of spirituality, all rendered from the stance of the unbeliever. “In the Light of the Room” and “I Never Lock That Door” each unspool with the rhythms of an old country song or a hymn, the divinity at their centers less about any specific god but rather sourced from a sense of love, goodness, and wholeness that exists only in the abstract. (“There’s one place that’s always open/And you’ll find me if you’re hoping/to be mine for all of time/I never lock that door.”) In the liner notes for Piano Taylor admits that many of these songs are meant to “celebrate lives of friends now passed, as well as love for those closest to us, and music itself.” On the elegiac “So Much Further to Go” Taylor balances the urge to bring something new into the world against the crushing brevity of human experience, describing life itself as “a miracle that's hard to bear,” while on album-closing “Don’t Worry” he intones, “If I’m gone away, don’t worry/It is only forever” as if to remind us that life is short, but also sometimes unbearably and stupidly long.

It would be easy to dismiss Piano as a slight addition to Taylor’s discography, but that would be wrong. The quiet humanity in these songs is disarmingly simple at first, but these sentiments creep up on you, giving credence to the notion that it’s in these private moments of contemplation where the narratives of our lives are ultimately assembled. “In the light of the room/Through a window dappled/I was dreaming of you/And of all that’s happened,” Taylor sings on “In the Light of the Room.” It’s the kind of simple moment of observation that Piano is full of. Taylor is no stranger to wearing his heart on his sleeve, Piano takes that notion one step further— it’s as if Taylor is taking his heart out for everyone to see, then discreetly leaving it on your coffee table.

Drowned In Sound 70

On that latest solo release, it was more stripped back than anything Hot Chip’s done. But, the myriad instrumentation around his voice, coloured things, and took the songs away from the core. Subsequently, it bent more towards what you would expect a Hot Chip side project to be.

Piano, on the other hand, sounds as if he's gone: 'Fuck it; I'm making my definitive piano album.' New songs, old songs, and covers in are in there in stark, introverted, and desolate fashion. So, if you're after party bangers like 'Over and Over' - you might as well stop reading here.

Part of the intimacy of this set, is largely down to the way he's chosen to record it. What Taylor's gone for is a sound that acts as very accurate representation of what it would have been like to be listening to Taylor in the studio. With Hackney Studios engineer Shuta Shinota at the controls, they simply let a great sounding piano, Taylor's voice, a quality desk, and the soft hum of a tape machine rolling in the background do all the work.

But, the intimacy, and great quality recording wouldn't matter, if there were no meditations on universally emotive matters there for the listener to chew on. Fortunately, they're on there in abundance. Opening track, 'I'm Ready', is the lead single that the label, Moshi Moshi, has been using to promote the album. It's a chilling rendition of a previously unrecorded song and it's a one that would knock the restlessness out of a room, and create awe among the listeners. But, the overarching subject matter of loss doesn't quite kick in until the second track, 'So Much Further To Go' - a reworking of the Hot Chip song from the album, Why Make Sense, kicks in. There's a line in it: ''Life a miracle - a miracle that's hard to bear," that has taken on a renewed significance for Taylor. The press release reveals why. He explains that he lost a close friend during the recording of this album and the lyrics didn't have too much of a bold meaning to him when he wrote them, now his mournful feelings are conveyed closely.

Although the cover of Elvis' gospel track, 'Crying in the Chapel', is more positivist, lyrically, the sad tone and stark arrangement put it in keeping with the rest of the set. Importantly, justice is given to the King, and Taylor, fortunately, doesn't get sidetracked by any temptation to imitate his voice, and makes it very much his own.

On, 'Without Your Name', the imperfections, and the unedited organic quality of the record comes through strongest. Notes appear to stumble occasionally, and the dynamic uncompressed sound of the piano comes out vibrantly. It's refreshing to hear something that hasn't been flattened - especially on an emotionally vulnerable set like this.

Another cover, 'Lonely Vagabond', comes across like a classic. It's a wistful, hauntingly beautiful interpretation of a Lone Pigeon's original. The two versions aren't too dissimilar in mood, as this track is the most heavily piano-based track on the stunning Lone Pigeon album, Schoozzzmmii. This is valuable exposure to this obscure record, and shows why, Piano, beyond being a fine album in its own right, also offers a musical education for the listener beyond Taylor's own output.

Elsewhere, 'Repair Man', continues the emotionally bleak ride. The helpless lyrics: "I started my life over again as a repair man / whose hands do not work " imply the gist of the narrative that follows. Next up, Alexis Taylor hits on another American classic with Crystal Gayle's 'Don't Make My Brown Eyes Blue'. The sparse piano playing - which characterises a lot of the album - ushers the words to the front and the song fits within the theme of the set just right.

In a similar country style, comes the Taylor original, 'I Never Lock That Door'. It's got all the hallmarks of a classic country love song and shows that life as a broad listener has paid off, in that it comes so naturally to him. After a brief flirtation with more upbeat words, 'Just for a Little While', comes in with more devastating lyrics. "Just for a little while / I want to see your smile" is something anyone struggling with the absence of a loved one can relate with.

Similarly, 'Don't Worry' is a murky portrayal of loss. "If I am gone away / don’t worry / It is only forever / If I have lost all that once mattered / don’t worry / it's only shatters / If I look you in the eye and my eye forces yours away / Don’t worry" are among the most direct lyrics on the album.

To cap things off, there's an untitled track that feels distinct from the rest of the album, it's recorded in a pre-war style and sees a guitar gently plucked next to Taylor's voice. It's a charming end to a stunning, yet intense emotional ride that Piano takes you on.

The Guardian 60

(Moshi Moshi)

Having mastered clever, chart-friendly dance-pop, Hot Chip have reached the point where they can do pretty much whatever they please. For singer Alexis Taylor, that has meant exploring jazz and funk with side-project About Group, and getting experimental on solo albums Rubbed Out and Await Barbarians. If those works felt pared-down, they’ve got nothing on his follow-up: Piano is just Taylor performing covers, Hot Chip and About Group tracks and original songs on the old Joanna. Taylor has said that the album was inspired by the death of a close friend, and the effect of hearing his quavering tenor shorn of his parent band’s synthy adornments is like eavesdropping on a deeply private recital. At times it works beautifully: opener I’m Ready provides a reminder of just what a lovely, evocative voice Taylor has, while a reworking of Hot Chips’s So Much Further to Go brings out a soulfulness barely glimpsed in the original. But in its second half, Piano begins to suffer from its stripped-back simplicity, when its sparse arrangements and slow pace start to feel plodding rather than profound.