Face to Face Once More

When Will Toledo sat down in his mother’s car to sing, “My boy, we don’t see each other much / It’ll take some time / but somewhere down the line / We won’t be alone”—Twin Fantasy’s opening lines—he could not have envisioned where that singular action would lead him. Toledo worked solo for the first five years of his career, relying on his dorm room and laptop to produce Twin Fantasy (Mirror to Mirror) (2011). This lo-fi album, imbued with unparalleled rawness, was an immense sensation on Bandcamp due to its masterfully messy response to the woes of failed teenage relationships. After signing to Matador Records in 2015, Toledo recruited guitarist Ethan Ives, bassist Seth Dalby, and drummer Andrew Katz, whose talents offered his new band, Car Seat Headrest, a musical dimensionality far keener than his MacBook GarageBand program could ever provide. Finally, Toledo had the resources to reconstruct the narrative of his youth through a fresh, matured lens, rebranding it as Twin Fantasy (Face to Face) (2018). The album recently celebrated its five-year anniversary, marking a notable feat for Toledo and Car Seat Headrest as a whole.

While Toledo laments the same toxic relationship from his late teens in both the 2011 and 2018 records, his enduring rumination between the releases, represented by a small but significant title change from Twin Fantasy (Mirror to Mirror) to Twin Fantasy (Face to Face), completely shifts the album’s narrative. The idea of a Twin Fantasy is one of a perfect relationship wherein the people involved are so similar that they are able to see themselves in each other, hence the title Mirror to Mirror for the original recording. Throughout the relationship, Toledo attempts to forge this fantasy between him and his unnamed boyfriend, reinforcing the theme of idealization through abrasive guitar chords and frenzied basslines. When recording the 2018 version, he decided to rename the album Face to Face, representing his changed mindset toward the relationship—he is no longer trying to romanticize it, as he possesses newfound maturity that allows him to see things as they are, face-to-face rather than through rose-tinted glasses.

The choruses are generally the same between the two albums, but Toledo twists certain sentiments from Mirror to Mirror to adapt the narrative. The most illustrative examples of this evolution can be heard in the most unassuming alcoves of the album; in the seventh track, “Cute Thing,” Toledo changes the lyrics from “I accidentally spoke your name aloud” to “I accidentally spoke his name aloud.” This simple change of pronouns completely alters the perspective from which Toledo approaches his breakup; he is aging away from the heartbreak of his teenage years and starting to reflect on it from a distance, maintaining the characteristic fatality that makes his lyricism so genuine.

Toledo exhibits mastery through the smooth integration of thematic and instrumental elements throughout the album. The record flows seamlessly from the energetic desire for codependency in “Cute Thing” to the disorienting layered crescendo of “High to Death.” Toledo successfully employs an element of unpredictability in compositions, deviating from any expectations of musical formula. Much like Toledo’s winding reflections on his relationship, the dynamic instrumentation throughout the album speaks to that indecisiveness. In the 16-minute expanse of “Famous Prophets (Stars),” reverberating screams and exploding percussion quickly fade into scratchy whispers embellished with faint piano notes. This dizzying sequence is repeated, sprinkled with the accelerating repetition of the lyric “The ocean washed over your grave / The ocean washed open your grave.” This is an example of how Toledo explicitly recalls and recaptures phrases mentioned in early songs as the album progresses. “The ocean washed open your grave” sequence is first introduced in the outro of “Beach Life-in-Death,” the album’s second track. However, when the lines are repeated halfway through “Famous Prophets (Stars),” Toledo’s vocals infuse it with an edge of dejected melancholy. The repetition of these lines is symbolic; Toledo uses the vessel of natural forces to allude to the constant resurfacing of emotions.

The final track, “Twin Fantasy (Those Boys),” is the perfect resolution to Toledo’s incessant introspection. The instrumentation reduces to a euphonic hum as his lyricism takes center stage. He finally realizes the sheer impracticality of holding onto his unsalvageable relationship any longer. In a fuzzy monologue, Toledo declares rather despondently that “The contract is up / The names have been changed / So pour one out, whoever you are / These are only lyrics now.” Twin Fantasy has proven itself to be a revolutionary album that not only redefined the lo-fi scene, but continues to represent Toledo’s growth as an artist and individual. With each revision he made to Twin Fantasy (Mirror to Mirror), Toledo altered aspects of his own persona as well. His profound displays of passion and vulnerability have allowed listeners to forge an emotional connection with his music.

There is much more to come, as Car Seat Headrest will inevitably further explore the chaos of youth in future projects. The album comes to a close with the elusive assertion “when you come back I’ll still be here.” Until then, listeners are left to fantasize about the mastermind that is Will Toledo.