Purity Ring’s Shrines Turns 10: How the Debut Laid a Masterful Foundation for the Future of Pop
The post Purity Ring’s Shrines Turns 10: How the Debut Laid a Masterful Foundation for the Future of Pop appeared first on Consequence.
Purity Ring‘s Megan James and Corin Roddick describe their debut album, Shrines, as one with very strict rules. “All the drums sound a certain way, all the vocals sound a certain way, all the synths… we created a strict palate of things that sort of worked together and tried to make as many different kind of musical ideas within that palette,” Roddick tells Consequence. Indeed, Shrines — which celebrates its tenth anniversary today, July 20th — is an album that represents Purity Ring operating with only their essentials, forging a path that would later define the sound of modern pop, if only for a portion of the last decade.
When you look at Purity Ring’s output following Shrines (2015’s Another Eternity, 2020’s WOMB, and most recently, their EP Graves, which was released back in June of this year), they rightly expanded outwards; after all, a group can only harness a sound within these “rules” before inevitably breaking them. Megan James’ lyrics moved from the poetic-yet-mildly-disturbing lore of Shrines to stories and narratives that were even more personal, finding a myriad of ways to reflect powerful emotions with increasing levels of detail and vulnerability. And Corin Roddick’s production has evolved from the barebones 808s and seismic bass drops to a more expansive and open-ended sound, accompanying James’ stories with appropriate textures and ideas.
But something about Shrines still exists in its own universe; these limiting factors, like lyrical content, drum sounds, and song structures, created a vacuum of space, a brand new arena for pop music that dazzled and hypnotized. “There was something in the air back 2011 and 2012,” says James about the creation of the record. Roddick agrees, nothing that “we were really inspired by the things that were happening a few years before we were a band as well. It’s just kind of the flow of things changing.”
The very DNA of Shrines may seem common today, but ten years ago, it was decidedly novel. Perhaps one of the biggest details was Roddick’s capitalization of southern hip-hop’s trap beats, which featured a plethora of 808 hi-hats in rapid bursts, musical phrases that edged against the back beat, and snaps and snare sounds that were lifted directly from hip-hop’s pioneers.
When looking at the album as a whole, Roddick used an incredibly limited selection of drum sounds, but deliberately overpopulated them on each track — on more patient numbers like “Lofticries” and “Obedear,” Roddick fills the empty space with timbres and textures that feel sleek and algorithmic, where more active songs like “Amenamy” feature such an influx of drum patterns that they end up commanding the track altogether.
Roddick claims that the drums were a huge guidepost in forging the sound of Purity Ring. “I was super inspired by a lot of the drum programming that I was hearing in hip-hop, especially in like kind of southern rap, and a few years later, it would be very common to hear these trap hi-hats over everything,” he says, “but at the time, to me, those sounds that would become really common to me were still kind of exciting and new, this idea of using very hip-hop-inspired drums and combining it with different electronic elements and weird vocal sample manipulation.
“There was a lot of instrumental music that had those types of hip-hop drums and electronic elements combined, but I hadn’t really heard it used in a pop context yet, and I think that’s what really I think set us apart in the Shrines era.”
But it wasn’t just in Shrines’ drum programming that belonged to the new era; James’ macabre lyrics and spritely deliveries were just as significant. Like the riveting work of Bjork, Alanis Morissette, and Robyn, James found a way to express the darkest emotions in a nuanced way, reflecting that women should not be constrained to ballads in order to share profound and intense feelings. The imagery that James employs on Shrines is fantastical and grim; there is a fascination with flesh and blood and bone, portraits of weeping and shedding skin, themes of insects, dirt, and earth juxtaposed with airy, light vocals, ghost-like manipulations, and eerie textures.
It wasn’t all set on sadness, too; the album’s biggest hit, “Fineshrine,” encompasses James’ unique style perfectly, with a series of images so odd that you can’t get them out of your brain. “Get a little closer, let fold/ Cut open my sternum and pull/ My little ribs around you,” she sings. The desire she feels is so intense that it’s worthy of a vivisection, the stakes so high, the imagery so dense and sensitive.
Yet, throughout the song, James sounds effortless and playful, singing circles around Roddick’s hypnotic beat. The song’s stylish groove and overt pop qualities also make these obviously gory lyrics more subtle than they’d seem — at a first listen, it’s easy to ignore the dark undertones, because a good pop banger is somewhat undeniable. This is the kind of subversive intention that characterizes many of the songs on Shrines, capitalizing on the Poptimism that characterized music in the Obama era while remaining true to Purity Ring’s authentically weird vision.
The careful balance of the outlandish with the accessible — as well as Shrine‘s success and critical acclaim — was undoubtedly a huge influence on the following years’ burgeoning pop artists. Lorde is an easy example; with her debut single “Royals,” she leaned into hip-hop production and stylish synths to reflect her jaded attitude towards a culture of excess. But perhaps more of an apt successor to Purity Ring’s art pop odysseys is Billie Eilish, who has never steered away from lyrical content that embraces dark, horror-influenced themes, whose feather-light vocals are juxtaposed with gargantuan beats, and whose overall musical output is very much in conversation with both hip-hop and electronic music.
Eilish, Lorde and many others have embraced the enchanting qualities of pop that Purity Ring so expertly achieved on Shrines. However, as pop music has continued to expand and transform, James and Roddick are more appreciative now than they once were. “When I hear remnants of sounds that sound really familiar like that, I don’t feel the same way I did in 2015,” says James. “There was a time where it felt more personal and disheartening, but now, I’ve come to terms with the fact that there was something bigger than us happening.”
Roddick agrees, noting that in today’s modern pop climate, artists are allowed to break the rules in a way that they weren’t encouraged to ten years ago. “A lot of the new stuff that I hear today is way less concerned with fitting in a genre box, or even a few genre boxes,” he says. “It’s way more of an ‘anything goes’ mentality, things mash together in wild ways, and I think that within that, I still hear little bites of Shrines… but I think it’s cool.” Roddick feels that the pace at which art evolves is good for re-contextualizing sounds of the past, commenting that “it gets interesting when it’s not a copy anymore, but when it’s been photocopied so many times that it starts to look weird and messed up.”
Another fascinating aspect of Shrines and its influence comes in its relationship to electronic music — specifically EDM, which, in 2012, was an unavoidable and rapidly expanding genre. Shrines‘ and Roddick’s frequent emphasis on bass sounds that feel truly gigantic, as well as the hip-hop influence in its drum sounds and grooves, was an ingredient that began popping up in a myriad of DJs’ styles. The entire future bass genre, which was pioneered in part by Flume and made more popular by Martin Garrix, Illenium, and The Chainsmokers, is certainly indebted to the widescreen rise-and-fall and pop-centered melodies that characterized Shrines.
At the time of Shrines‘ release, James and Roddick didn’t quite know how to describe their unique concoction. “I remember at the time, people kept being like, ‘What do you call this kind of music?’ and we called it ‘future pop,’ because we didn’t want people to call us something weird,” says Roddick. “So we thought we’d get the jump and be like ‘it’s future pop,’ and that seemed to work quite well — people and press at the time called us a ‘new future pop band.’ But I guess future pop evolves and evolves until it’s hyperpop, and then eventually maybe it’ll be ultrapop or giga-ultrapop,” he says with a laugh.
Though hyperpop is a major ingredient in today’s music landscape, Purity Ring don’t consider Shrines to be a landmark album of the genre. “I see the parallels, but Shrines is a different kind of pop.” says James, “there’s a lot more color in hyperpop.”
Genres aside, it’s undeniable that Shrines left a major footprint in left-of-center pop. There was something so deeply cool about the hazy, stylized sound they championed, and ten years later, those awe-inducing melodies and sonics proves that Purity Ring was after something truly different back in 2012. From the very first song, “Crawlersout,” we’re given four notes of light synths before the drums give way to a blissful, bass-filled explosion. In that moment, it’s clear that we’re in Purity Ring’s unique pop universe — and little did they know, that universe would make its way into our own in a myriad of wonderful ways.
Shrines Artwork:
Purity Ring’s Shrines Turns 10: How the Debut Laid a Masterful Foundation for the Future of Pop
Paolo Ragusa
Popular Posts
Robert Fripp (in Mask) and Toyah (in Barely Anything) Perform Slipknot's "Psychosocial": Watch
Ricky Martin's Accuser Identified As His 21-Year-Old Nephew: Report
Dave Coulier Recalls Hearing Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know" for First Time
With Jack in the Box, j-hope Isn't Afraid to Embrace the Darkness
Toyah Pours Water on Herself as She and Robert Fripp Cover Rammstein's "Keine Lust": Watch
