didn’t we used to know someone like you? or was that sombody else?

A few short ones:

What about unintentional onamonapiea? The kind of words that were probably invented before we knew what kinds of sound they’d make. Things like thresher, pump, nasal spray, elastic. Some songs you know what the last chord is from the title.

Gillian Was A Horse” is from Damien Jurado’s 2008 album Caught in the Trees.

It took me a while, but I finally got into the newish Marnie Stern album, which, quite honestly I disliked so much the first few time I heard it that I didn’t even bother until one epic walk home last week. She’s still shredding but now she’s also chopping and dicing, blending, pureeing. It’s like she wrote all her song parts on the side of shatterproof glass and then jumped up and down on them until they shattered.

Vault” is from Marnie Stern’s 2008 album This Is It and I am It and You are It and He is it and She is it and it is it and that it that.

The New Harlem Shakes Album is, after 5 or so complete listens, admirable because it is honest. It’s also bourgiee as fuck; these are songs about the pressures of being young and rich in new york city (and of escape those pressures to, where else, “my best friends’ farm”). They’re songs about selling stuff online, not understanding clever t-shirts shopping at farmer’s markets and something called “the game.” It’s as if the narrators of Vampire Weekend songs dropped out of school and decided they were going to do Americorp in upstate new york. Musically, the songs are often great, and the lyrics are insightful, descriptive and not half as vapid as i’m making them out to be. The only thing is, the scope is unbelievably narrow. Either you know exactly what these guys are feeling, or you don’t and might never. They used to specialize in brash self effacement like “i’d say it so loud if I knew what I ought to say” or the bored jumpstarts like “if there’s a bomb in your hand just throw it. If the guns too hot, just run. This place is filled with sickos.” And now we get “zima saturday sunsets” and “we’d forage at the farmer’s market/and dine on dirty fruit.” again, it’s not bad per-se, it’s just a world away from where I am right now, and so for me, it just doesn’t resonate as much. Some of these songs do nothing, but here’s one that I would pocket at a wedding reception because they stopped handing out champagne, find a few months later when I wore the suit coat and be happy I had held on to.

Winter Weather” is from The Harlem Shakes’ 2009 album Technicolor Health.

and hey, Mice Parade, Ponytail, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart and Bonnie prince Billy (all on seperate bills, unfortunately) are gonna be at The Crofoot soon. and Dillinger Four are at the Magic Stick in June. I’m gonna go and request that they play everything they’ve written except the 13 songs on their crappy new album.

and, oh man, idolator, for once. and only once, you wrote something i’m not linking out of pure blinding rage: On Pearl Jam’s “Ten” and 90’s revisionism.

and
this is the last call at a bottle service rooftop bar would never let you in, anyway. As someone who loves skyscrapers but hates ugly, ugly skyscrapers, I’m not too disappointed to see this bubble burst.

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