The Alexander Technique Finds Rex Orange County in a Confounding Tug of War of Sincerity and Cowardice

During the summer of 2022, Alexander O’Connor (professionally known as Rex Orange County) had to abruptly cancel his tour dates in Australia and New Zealand due to “unforeseen personal circumstances.” The public would later find out that the circumstances in question was just one: a legal battle pertaining to six charges of sexual assault, which were eventually dropped due to CCTV footage exonerating him. While it’s not particularly relevant to dwell on the minutiae of the substance of this case, what is relevant to discuss is the shift in public attitude toward O’Connor as a result.

O’Connor has clearly had a rough go of it in the years since we last heard from him, and his new album, The Alexander Technique, does not let us forget it. The end of his long-term relationship resulted in the loss of a muse and, subsequently, his identity. Rex Orange County’s rise to prominence was a perfect storm; sunny disposition and major seventh chords were all the rage back in 2017, and O’Connor had just released his sophomore record, Apricot Princess to acclaim. His natural musicianship, paired with classical training from the BRIT School, oozes throughout that record. My 14 year old self was hooked, and many of my peers have also cited Apricot Princess as a defining record for the early cultivation of their music taste—paired with Tyler, The Creator’s modern classic Flower Boy, which features O’Connor on both the record’s opener “Foreword” and its second-most popular track, “Boredom.” Out of his contemporaries from this era (boy pablo, Cuco, Gus Dapperton, etc.) it seems as though Rex Orange County was the only one with the potential to stand the test of time.

But seven years later, we find O’Connor tackling a public figure’s worst nightmare: serious and widely acknowledged allegations that continue to plague his reputation despite being proven not guilty. Opener and lead single “Alexander” sets a disappointing precedent for the album that follows it. The track sees O’Connor grasping at his days studying jazz piano, as he melodramatically waxes poetic about just how hard his life has been. The lyrics are self-indulgent throughout, and they do an awful job at fostering sympathy from the listener. The ineffective stream-of-consciousness storytelling surrounding visiting a doctor for his back pain (relevant to note that the “The Alexander Technique” is a real chiropractic technique to improve posture and relieve back pain) culminates in an “it was all just a dream” moment as O’Connor hypothesizes, “I may be using my back pain to distract from the pain of life,” a line so banal I laughed out loud on my first listen.

This disheartening ethos continues on “Therapy,” a track that reads like another sore attempt to garner sympathy. Trading his piano for an organ, O’Connor goes full theater kid and introduces himself as your “host for the evening,” as if you hadn’t already been listening to his yammering for the previous 10 minutes. “Therapy” feels like a conversation with an acquaintance who recently “found himself” after an ayahuasca retreat in a way that only a straight white man could, with a cadence unpolished in a way that reminded me of R Kelly’s Trapped in the Closet as he rap-sings “Well, I’d rather have these streams than have a boring life, you know? / And even in my darkest hour I remember why I’m here / Never said what I was truly feeling ‘till the way the most for many years.” Putting this song and “Alexander” at the beginning of the record (or even on the record at all) feels like a sorely misguided attempt at beating around the bush of what the public was waiting to hear from O’Connor, and it sounds like the fall from grace we first witnessed two years ago.

With a handful of pleasant, folksy string driven tracks filling out the middle of the record (The Mk.gee-inspired “Pure,” second single “The Table” (with its Antonoffian sax outro) and the orchestral “One Of These Days”), The Alexander Technique reaches a paradigm shift in its back half. Track 10, “Carerra,” which Rex Orange County premiered during his Camp Flog Gnaw set in 2023, is a refreshingly honest and sincere address of his legal battle. He doesn’t indulge in his musicality, and the track is fairly bare-bones: A simple drum machine loop and wavy synths accompany a heartfelt vocal performance. O’Connor doesn’t express bitterness or self-righteousness like he does in the record’s front half; he’s just simply annoyed. He doesn’t wallow in self-pity, instead acknowledging the frustration behind the sudden halt in his career’s momentum: “I think they’re taking their time / In the process wasting mine / I was in my prime / But what does it really mean to be in your prime?” he muses.

It’s a strange and rare feeling when an album starts to click in its final stretch. “Much Too Much” sees O’Connor finally experiment with production elements through pitch and meter-shifting, as well as Latin jazz-inspired drum patterns and flute flourishes. He sounds his most sincere when he’s asking questions, as opposed to making statements: “When I can look at the sky I’ve painted / Is it alright that I’ve lеft spaces?”. “Sliding Doors” beautifully utilizes O’Connor’s voice, woodwinds and angrand piano. While lyrically vague, the lushness and creativity behind this track’s instrumental is simply undeniable.

The James Blake collaboration “Look Me in the Eyes” is a sparse, gut-wrenching duet tackling O’Connor’s aforementioned breakup. “Maybe we’ll see each other at someone’s wedding / Catch eyes across the aisle / It all ended the way this one’s gonna end too / So I see you crack a smile / And I know exactly what you’re thinking / It all went by while we were blinking” may be one of the most heartbreaking verses I’ve heard all year, and Blake’s voice is utilized perfectly—blending with O’Connor’s, who smartly takes second fiddle in the harmonies.

The Alexander Technique ends with a giant question mark, as the final two tracks are forgettable trap-inspired songs—with closer “Finally” ending on a somber synth lick followed by a jump-scaringly loud and out-of-place final piano chord, almost aligning with how I felt after finishing the record for the first time: confused. Rex Orange County is clearly still a musician with plenty of talent left in him, and I truly hope he’s able to find himself out of this series of unfortunate events. I hope he’s able to come back in a few years and provide a better and wiser perspective on this tumultuous period of his life, or, at the very least, he can go back to making the sweet love songs that brought on his fame in the first place. But for whatever The Alexander Technique is, I’m left with more questions than answers.