Oneohtrix Point Never and a rant on 1) music critics and 2) chill-wave

(Editors note: I fucking love Oneohtrix Point Never. Can't wait for the new album. Just, had to make sure that was clear.)



So, there was slight to-do over a record review today on the inter-webs. Or, at least, I made a to-do about it in my mind. The review was of Real Estate's new album Days and can be found, here, in the on-line publication Dusted Magazine. Another music critic, who will remain unnamed seemed to have taken offense to this portion of the review.

Days will be called chill, but in reality it is a powerful narcotic that is built to simultaneously desensitize emotion and incite nothing in its place. In many ways, it is the most dangerous kind of album that can exist at this time.

 In response the unnamed music critic sent just the bolded section of the review out in a tweet today and, in classic reviewer fashion, seemed to discount the comment because it was insufferable navel gazing. Is the above review the classic case of a music critic taking themselves and their work too seriously, yea probably. But, it wasn't like the critic who sent out the tweet isn't the exact same type of critic who loves navel gazing but only if it isn't about anything too serious, we would hate to ruin anyone's vibe about the new Real Estate album.



Its not that the unnamed tweeter had an issue with this guys review of the new Real Estate album. I don't give a shit about that. The problem is that in less than 140 characters unnamed music critic wanted to discredit the review because of once sentence that he either disagreed with or thought was too far reaching. If you think the guy is wrong then it is on room to prove to me why you think so, otherwise, Mr. Pot, please meet Mr. Kettle.



Last, the review is correct, all this chilled-out stuff needs to be taken with a grain of salt. At what point do we ask a fad to stop being a fad and start adding something of substance to the conversation. Bands like Real Estate and Washed Out aren't doing or saying anything wrong, but they aren't pushing anything forward it seems either. If you can honestly tell me that in five hears you are still going to want to be putting on those albums you something is wrong.

I Went To the Hospital

Holy shit fall is laying it on thick. Have you seen a tree recently? They all look like they are on fire. Seriously, on fire.



I want to be famous for falling love.

This seems like some appropriate Sunday, hangover listening. I don't think my brain could really handle anything more intense right now. This isn't about me though, this is about you.

Fall listening at its finest. Have you noticed how if you stare at a group of trees in the fall all the colors of leaves kind of look like the milky way? It's just a trail of reds, yellows, and oranges clustered around each other all looking like they could explode at any minute. They all just hang there in the trees, tenuously, waiting for either a strong breeze to take them to the ground or a light to cause them to catch on fire. That's what Cass McCombs is like - you don't realize he as is good as he is until about 15 mins later when you are walking around doing something else humming "I went to the hospital/They put me in a bed/And I always do/What my mother says". Yea, you just don't realize it until it's too late.

Desire is made to listen to at in the dark

It's my Birf-day.



Special Saturday post for all you'll - trying to make up for the posts we missed earlier this week.

Desire, I want to live in the world that Desire sounds like. It sounds super sexy and super awesome. I imagine it's a world where woman whisper their desires in sultry voices in the back of crowded clubs. Lots of neon, probably. I like to think I would have some sort of leather jacket and a motorcycle. Yes, I know this is lazy, but I think it might be the world from Bladerunner. I of course would be charged with hunting down robots disguised as humans.

Happy birfday to me.

The Rapture

Holy Crap! What a horribly busy week. I would like to thank my micro-economics professor for taking the stress level from 5 to 10. Couldn't have ask for more out of you



Slow. It. Down. Always a good idea if you are looking to maximize that groove. Damn.

I don't know if this is suppose to be some sort of religious thing, but according to some comments on the YouTube page it seems that some people don't like the new album for its religious references. I don't know what they are talking about. Either way though this track is totally bitching.

Cass McCombs - the best dressed man in show business?

Besides being a musical genius, Cass McCombs also has the satorial style of a man who knows what the fuck he is doing.

Really, just look at him in that photo. God damn, I want that shirt, I want that suit, I want that hair. The worst is that he looks like he isn't even trying. In fact, chances are pretty good that he may not be trying. He may in fact have slept in that suit last nigh, but it doesn't matter, that is how that suit is suppose to be warn - its suppose to be lived in. 

If you research Cass McCombs the reoccurring narrative is that he is a wreckloose, a vagabond, a man without a home. He songs sound like. His songs are are places to live to in with him. He sounds like a man who given this ultimatum before - meet me here at dawn and I'm leaving whether you show or not. 

"Meet Me Here at Dawn" is chalk full of little spaces and crevices to crawl into and feel the space around you and see what he is talking about. They are between the sloppy guitar playing,the beats between the snare drums and the pauses in his breath. You get inside of them and you try them on for size. They feel like flannel shirts on a brisk fall day. 

I want McCombs to tell me stories of adventure and loss, and I want to hear them around a campfire with a strong drink.