Previously recording and performing under the moniker David’s Lyre, Paul Dixon has recast himself visually and musically as Fyfe for his latest 2015 release, Control. It follows his self-released 2013 Solace EP, expanding on those initial tracks and creating a complete picture of who Fyfe is, and where Dixon sees his sound going.
Dixon goes under a pseudonym to free himself from the celebrity culture of today, and to allow for “a mix of real experience and observation,” in his songwriting. So while it may not be known what Fyfe means or stands for, it represents a sense of freedom and where he is at this moment in time. And where is that exactly?
First, let’s back up about two years. I’m skimming the internet for the latest new tracks, up late one night after work. Using some method that heavily involved tag surfing on Bandcamp, I came across a black and white photograph of the back of someone’s head, heavily covered in paint. Then I listened to “Solace,” and as the words “living isn’t easy, when you’ve been free, and it’s taken away / I will lay my head down til some sense has been found” floated into my ears, I found myself in the virtual presence of someone who knew me; someone who knew a way to make sense of the situation I was in and the way I thought about it with startling beauty. Next I heard “St. Tropez,” and I knew I was on to something. From that moment on, Fyfe was a big deal – if only to me at the time.
Two years later, Fyfe IS kind of a big deal – and to quite a few more people in the world. Control is Fyfe’s first full work, and a strong statement of existence. I do also mean that existentially. The lyrics are crafted in a way that ponders the meaning of love and life that leaves the listener with more questions than answers. And for what many would consider pop music, Fyfe delivers the highest caliber of lyrics though the simplest of words. For once, the words “everything I do, for you” in a song fail to make me cringe, but instead, I groove to them in “For You.” And in opener “Conversations,” the lines “years and years I’ve lived through things that don’t mean much to me / come on dreams, don’t fail me now” don’t dissuade or depress, but instead invigorate the spirit.
It’s this contradictory nature of Fyfe’s music that creates its brilliance and exclusive sound. Within almost every song, there are both minimalist and fully orchestral moments, a sense of acoustic and electronic sounds, and shared space by all instruments and Dixon’s delightfully smooth and poppy vocals. It shows that this time around, Fyfe was in control of the whole process, and chose to highlight every part of it. His has been described as “working” pop music, and I would have to agree. It doesn’t sound like it was simple to make, but the end product is tantalizingly easy on the ear.
It’s in the little clicks, the hiccups and taps of percussion, the layered vocal melodies, the harmonic brass, the orchestral arrangements, and the reflective but optimistic lyrics, that Fyfe gets me every time. He’s working through life just the same way that we are, one day at a time. And through it, creating something with a beat that never goes bad, a melody to speak with, and an honest will to carry on. In finding himself and finding his sound, Fyfe helps us find that life and love is a little more relatable than the world might have us believe.
Rating: 4/5