25 posts? Well, it was a nice thought. maybe i’ll try it again soon.
Ask anyone whose ever seen me at a party; i’m not a dancer, at least not when i’m in a position to remember any of my dancing. So my relationship with dance music (that is, any self proclaimed “dance music”) is pretty tenuous. Mostly, I end up liking just the fringes of the genre, music that’s either too smart (!!!) too old (T Rex, Bill Withers, De La Soul) too detailed (Caribou) too loud (Q and not U, TV on the radio, detachment kit/les savy fav) or too unrecognizable (the bass-drum’s-on-fire-level qunnaum records compilation “Quannum Spectrum”) to bring the party people to the dance floor. So to all those party people, I give you another reason not to let me take over your ipod at your next rager: I will put on No Kids.
No Kids have all the ingredients of a dance rock act; drum machines, staccato horn interjections, a man whose voice is always stuck in falsetto, lyrics about parties and the weekend. The only thing is, somewhere along the way, all those elements coalesced into one hell of a hesitant, late night faucet drip of an album. It’s a great album, for sure, but it might be some of the least danceable dance music i’ve ever been hyperbolic about.
For one thing, these songs are stacked with lyrics. Detailed, crisp lyrics, filled with the kind of vivid details that materialize before you walks home from work in late october. And the october thing is a must; more proof that canadians just get Fall better than we do, Come Into My House is an album haunted by wind. In some songs that wind beating against your face as your walking home from a party where everyone felt like a salesperson (“For Halloween”). In others, it’s causing an instinctual huddle with someone who felt just as chilled as you did (“Bluster in the Air”). In others still it’s a sign of just getting older, watching kids ignore a gale as you sit on a bench, watching the sun go down (“Four Freshman Locked Out As The Sun Goes Down”).
So these songs require attention. They’re not sudokus or billboards. But they’re not Giacometti sculptures either. As much as they’re full of thought, that’s not going to stop them from driving too fast or jumping down the banister. It’s fun, just not you’re typical fun. You could dance to this, just a little differently.
The moment in this song comes in at second fifty five. the first fifty four seconds might be climbing stairs, but then Sisyphus finally shoves that rock over the top, or you suddenly are allowed a lapse of crisp, fierce lucidity among hours and hours of dimentia. That’s this moment. I do not own The New Year’s newest album, but based off the success of their last album and this track, I will recommend it in spite of that very important fact.