Friday, April 23, 2010

What makes you think I'm enjoyin' being lead to the flood? We got another thing coming undone.

Nobody likes to be told what to do. Nobody likes to admit that they need some lowly conductor to pull the lever which will switch em' to the other side of the tracks. Well, that's not entirely true, but the Sadism and Bondage communities aside, it rings true in some way or another. Well, I'm going to disregard the primal human paradox and tell you exactly what to do this morning: MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE NEW YORK TIMES WEBSITE, DRINK SOME COFFEE (or some apple juice in a coffee mug!), AND STREAM THE NEW NATIONAL ALBUM!

This is an album which you can feel yourself listening to on your kitchen table, the sort of white linoleum that is perched in the corner of your kitchen, next to a window with heavy wooden blinds. This is a dollies and cardigans album, that resonates in places that are a little unexpected.

I'm going to get one thing cleared up initially; this album is not Boxer, and it's not Alligator. This album, High Violet, is full of more elephant shit than a circus, I promise you that. It's isolated the same as Boxer, but you see, the music is busier. More preoccupied, more textured, more layered. The music clashes beautifully with the vocals, the limitless vocals that remain in between two keys.

The album speaks for itself.

I urge you, find it within yourself and your closet to don some faux-intellectual apparel and sit on your table while you listen to this. Perhaps add some scones.

Your ego, and your "musical palette" will thank you!

OH, there is a warning that comes with this album! It says the FUCK word, so, y'know, plug your ears!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

If you cross all of your fingers, you just have a tangled hand!

I'm going to find some time, somwhere,
and rebuild this whole facade!
I will, I will, I will!
If you choose to read it, I appreciate you much more than you'll ever know!

P.I.G.S - Holy Fuck

Monday, December 28, 2009

Stay in bed 'til we feel alright!

Nobody wants to write their own eulogy.

It's been fun and frantic, but it can't last forever,

I'm worn out though, and a little tired of things that look black, but taste red.

But isn't that what infinity is all about?
Being really worn out?

Thanks for reading, and for listening, and for checking, and for existing, and for ignoring, sometimes!

You can find me here if you don't mind trailing through some bullshit, some mud, and some words. Beneath it, there is music! Unless you're deaf, and you're just hear for the words.

In the great words of Lucas,
I do not regret the things I have done, but those I did not do!

This'll be up for another day or two, so download the song, it's everything we've all been feeling forever!

Remember, listening to this shit will make you sterile.


Nehmetallah, Norman

Sunday, December 13, 2009

The 1973 film adaption of The Glass Menagerie is not good, and I wish critics would agree with me on this one!

The Schedule, as far as I can predict,

1) A string of highly-anticipated end of the year lists, over-wrought with predictability, justification and juxtaposition.

b) Christmas music, the bane of my existence. (This is completely fabricated, I love Christmas music with every ounce of love I can muster!)

c) I shall be in Mexico for 7 days!

4) 2010

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Jealous of Noah's dream, I can't help my boat from sinking!

There is a band of revelrous young men, spreading cheer and ambience and wide-eyed wild wishing, like farmers spread seed to make dwindling crops grow. In this case, the farmers are grown men who harbour a fascination with strawberry jam, and have opted out of using the names their tentatively caucasian, middle-aged mothers game them, instead preferring the heartwarming titles of Avey Tare, Panda Bear, Deakin, and Geologist. This collection of revelrous creatures? Animal Collective.

Hailing from their Baltimore, Maryland home of ... well, Baltimore, Maryland, these four young men need not be introduced. If pieces of art that are titled Strawberry Jam, Merriweather Post Pavilion and Feels don't ring a bell for you, you need a new fucking bell. Animal Collective have been wildly and rightfully successful in 2009, releasing their most-acclaimed record to date. An Animal Collective fan, also known as someone difficult to find in a room filled with cardigans, knows one thing about this band, if they know anything. After every gracious album these men release, an EP must follow, still orbiting the themes and the sounds of the album that spawned it. The interesting trait of these almost expected EPs is that each one is equally reverent and independent as any album the band has produced. Fall Be Kind is no exception.

Fall Be Kind, the title of their new EP, and if fall was kind to them (ambient sunshine pop on the Billboard 100? That's beyond kind. That's life desiring to perform some blatantly sexual acts on them...), winter is looking just as hospitable. Beach Boy-esque rhythms, Richard Hell and the Voidoids exhilaration, and (this is the part where I stop comparing them to other people!) the exacerbated joy of pop that Animal Collective is known for bestowing are heavily 'stowed. There isn't much one can say of this EP besides, entertain a pair of shorts beneath your snow pants this winter, and a pair of headphones to circumnavigate your head, and you'll be just fine.

Fall was kind, who's to say winter won't be?

Sunday, November 1, 2009

She don't need your education!

There is a woman I know.
She is a good friend of mine.
She adores the sight of blood.
Since the age of 6, she's been failing every math test,
and science test that comes in her general direction,
but she wouldn't know that, because she can't grasp the concept of direction.
Her heroes include the woman who thought up Hollister,
and Miley Cyrus.
Her life consists of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll.
She loves to hug, and feelings are her thang.

Her name is Daniella,
and it is her birthday!'

About a Girl - Nirvana

Also, she is the complete opposite of the above description...