I think every post from the past 2 years contains a disclosure about 'coming out of retirement' so this one won't. Unless you count the last sentence. But no, don't do that, no. Let us progress together, you and I. Into the cosmic future.
As your number one source of extraneous Waxahatchee criticism, I felt a familiar tingle in my toes with the announcement of the band's 4th full length, Out In The Storm. "Finally!", I thought, replacing the moth balls around my notarized official p.s. eliot attire, "Another opportunity to convince myself I still enjoy Katie's artistic output!". But ultimately - like the thrill of assuming a new 'alternative' identity - the veneer wears thin and I'm left with a pile of XXL Tommy Hilfiger tees and fitted Expire snapbacks - discarded for cardigans and acoustic guitar.
I really don't want to explain this for the million billionth time, but let's say you like boring. I'm here for you. Thus, blah blah blah, I was fangirl #1 for everything Katie Crutchfield ever wrote but then Cerulean Salt came along and slipped me a mickey. To clarify, that album is boring and sucks, and the allusion stops at me passing out from that. There's no nefarious aftermath to offend you. I held out for Ivy Tripp, but again, I found myself unconscious and wrapped around a streetlight whenever I played it. See, the 90's weren't very good. And, sure, I'm wrong, but the point is: I'd be happy to never hear a band reference lukewarm tap water like Liz Phair, that dog., Veruca Salt, or Last Splash-era Breeders ever again. Thus, my disdain for Waxahatchee, post-American Weekend.
So when I heard there was another album happening, I knew I had to hear it but kinda in that 'need to go to jury duty' way. Fortunately, I found this tidbit off the Merge Records page:
"At Agnello’s suggestion, the group recorded most of the music live to enhance their unity in a way that gives the album a fuller sound compared to past releases, resulting in one of Waxahatchee’s most guitar-driven releases to date."
"Color me intrigued", I didn't think to myself, though I actually was pretty intrigued. A main issue of mine with the last two albums was the sterility of the instrumental performance. Cerulean Salt was waaay more guilty of this, but they both carried this tepid, k-hole'd studio musician feel that had so little personality, it literally sucked personality out of your body like a collapsed star. I'm being really fucking obnoxious, but bear with me, it may stop soon.
"Silver" sounds surprisingly good. It's the first track released, and Katie's pretty double tracked vocals carry a melody that sounds seriously like something an old shoegaze band would write. I could honestly do without all the 'oooh oooh' stuff, and feel like the track would benefit from less clutter, but the riffs are intriguing, and most surprisingly, the lyrics are SO COMPREHENSIBLE TO THE LAYMAN. I mean, look at this:
If I turn to stone The whole world keeps turning I went out in the storm And I'm never returning
Where's the word "ostentatious"? Or "proclivity" pronounced really weirdly? I've always loved Katie's lyrics, but these seem so bold in their relative accessibility.
This is getting way too long, but to wrap it up: I'm surprised. I actually really like this new song. I'm not expecting an emotional pummeling on the heels of American Weekend anymore, but I'd be thrilled to connect with Katie's music again. Let the leaking begin.
This is pretty out of the norm for my lovably zZaAnNyY writing antics, but I've been doing little reviews on rateyourmusic.com, lately, mostly just to dick around and get my head Back In The Game™. I'm preeeetttyyy positive that no one needs a new assessment of an album that came out 3 years ago that was covered by all mainstream alternative music journals, but that's the fun of not giving a shit and doing things for the sake of doing them - SMASHIN THE CAPITALIST AGENDA, imo. Anyway, here's this dull, fairly reserved shit:
I already did a little backstory thing for the Ivy Tripp review, but basically, I was a ridiculously huge fan of Katie's output from 2008 to 2013. I got the p.s. eliot demo off a blog randomly and never turned back, eating up their whole discography, as well as Bad Banana, the King Everything tapes, Waxahatchee's split w/ Chris Clavin, American Weekend, and even cried like a wimp at p.s. eliot's last show.
Needless to say, I was pretty forthy in the jaw when the announcement for this album came about, and then - subsequently - in denial about how little I liked it for about a year. I've since concluded that some albums are growers and some are just sort of impossible, and this falls somewhere in the middle (though definitely leaning more towards the latter).
On this album, Katie chose to abandon the ultra lo-fi bedroom sound of her earlier solo works, so the majority of tracks are augmented by a couple musician friends, and presented with crystal clear production. That said, the focus still remains squarely on the bare songwriting itself, so the accompanying musicians never act as much more than stagehands for her performance. What this unfortunately translates into is a handful of otherwise decent songs turning to complete slogs due to to a bunch of clumpy, meandering studio takes. Seriously, Kyle McBride and Keith Spencer sound like fucking automatons fulfilling a programmed function more than members of a band, here. There's just no sense of chemistry or that they're even playing in the same state, let alone the same studio. Just sterile plodding that not only provides no energy, but stymies all existing energy.
If anything, though, it's the songwriting that fails to grab me. I dunno if this is due to Katie obviously reaching into new reference pools for her sound or what, but almost none of these tracks have an emotional core that I connect with. While "Blue Pt. II", "Tangled Envisioning", and "You're Damaged" are all pretty and likable, only the minimal bass-driven "Brother Bryan" and the incredibly poignant "Lively" crush my heart the way her old stuff used to. The rest alternates between sounding like weird, unfinished experiments or... just plain boring 90's grab bag alternative music.
I get that musicians get sick of doing the same old shit, and change their sound as their tastes shift and they age, but really, the shift out of the familiar twee pop/pop punk/loner acoustica realm just doesn't do it for me. The songwriting - minus the tacked on accompaniments - is pretty scattershot, the production and back up tracks are bleach-tier sterile, and the lyrics just don't hit home in that bookish, broken hearted way that all her old projects used to boast. I think I'll continue to revisit this every 4-6 months for the conceivable future, but this is still one of the biggest letdowns I can think of.
Like, in a musical sense. My life hasn't been that good.
2015 was a fucking toilet. I lived in New Orleans, founded a sweet punk house with some good friends, discovered that living in a shotgun is like operant conditioning for paralyzing anxiety, rekindled a love of suicidal ideation, and learned how to create an ouroboros of sadness by drinking to feel anything which leads to feeling less the next day which leads to drinking etc. Eventually I went back to NY, regained some level of sanity, immediately dashed it on the windshield of traincore life, crossed over to the opposite side of the country, got hella sick, had two friends die within a two month span, and lost a partner of 5 years due to horrifying depression. Also, there's unlisted bonus tracks you can hear irl, but first you have to help shatter my exoskeleton of numbness so the tears can finally escape their cimmerian prison.
In summation: aw shit yeah brah 10/10 would entertain cutting my own head off again
You know what I hate? The internet. 'Kinkshaming is LITERALLY a thing I can't even I'M DONE Y'ALL Y'ALL Y'ALL [bevy of slang terms and phrases lifted shamelessly from black culture by white kids who only derive joy out of criticizing others for cultural appropriation] smh cuckcuckcuckcuckcuck problematic AF Y'ALL'
And so it is 2016. Admittedly, I haven't really kept up on current music like I used to. I pretty much spent the entire first half of the year just endlessly replaying old Guided By Voices and Jason Molina stuff (apropos of my sad, drunk aesthetic at the time), and then the second half being a hobo in my cleanest glad rags and a bindle full of dreams. To make up for this, I've combed through a ton of personal and collective 'best of '15' lists and exposed myself to everything I could, meaning dozens of albums in the past 6 weeks. THE VERDICT: FUCK YOU, I guess
1.) Beach Slang - The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us
This band has magically turned into the Wesley Willis of 'meaningful', young adult-oriented 90's rock revival. I'm not even trying to be a condescending dick here - this seriously bums me out - but how does a band run out of ideas this fast? Almost every single one of these ten tracks sounds like a barely tweaked rewrite of an older song, and this is coming from a band that only had 8 recorded numbers under their belt, prior. In fact, if you cut out "Bad Art And Weirdo Ideas", "Too Late To Die Young", "Porno Love", and "Young And Alive" (to a lesser extent), you're basically getting 6 inferior versions of "Filthy Luck" or "All Fuzzed Out" from their first couple EPs. I'm not sure what happened here, but I'm kinda guessing all the hype pushed these guys to crank out tunes faster than they could recharge their creative juices, because this is sort of a slog to get through, and it's only like 27 minutes long. Maybe I'm being too harsh, because I know a lot of people really love this, but it's just hard to get behind since I'm apparently one of those "I only like the demo" guys now. oh god how do i stop it
2.) Year Of Glad - s/t
When NONA announced they were calling it quits in late 2014, you can bet your bottom dollar that I made sure to inexplicably avoid their final show, especially since it was taking place less than an hour away from where I lived. Luckily, every member instantaneously formed new bands or joined old ones, and thus the roaring emptiness inside is temporarily quelled once more. Year Of Glad is guitarist/sinus cavity projectionist Mimi's new project, featuring one of the 1994! guys (Chris), plus Mike from Good Luck and another Mike from some basically eponymous band. I never really dug 1994!, so fortunately this sounds more like an even tighter, better version of NONA over anything in the math-y, twinkly whatever subgenre that band occupied. That sentence was poorly structured to deliver the impact intended. An even better NONA is just what this post-9/11 world needs, though. The songwriting here is, like, rotavirus-level infectious with lots of clever arrangements, instantly memorable melodies and leads, and sweet vocal tradeoffs from Mimi, Chris, and one of the Mikes. I don't know why I've been assuming you know what NONA sounded like, but as an extension, this is more of that pop punk/90's alt rock Frankenstein stuff, but luckily, without any of the dull, Veruca Salt-ish trudging that occasionally smushed the fun out of Through The Head. Did you ever try to listen to an entire Veruca Salt album? I did, and now my life is in ruin, as evidenced above. I'm tired and my partially-skunked-IPA buzz is in decline, so this review is probably as substandard as usual, but also I feel bad about it. Regardless, this EP is fucking great, and I seriously can't wait to hear what these guys do next.
3.) Waxahatchee - Ivy Tripp
I love the shit out of American Weekend. The lo-fi fuzz settles all over my psyche like a warm blanket in a northeast winter, and it's something I've played on a zillion sad days. My love of Katie Crutchfield's songwriting dials back to 2008, when the p.s. eliot demo hit, but 2013's Cerulean Salt was effectively the flighty "I need to find myself" college phase that kills high school relationships. For me, CS was way too cold and bitter sounding to love, the new back up band sounded sterile and rigid, and the scattershot, '90's grab bag' experimentalism made it seem more directionless than expansive. Ivy Tripp has the same mess of styles going on, but fortunately, A) the songs no longer sound like hastily filled in sketches by a studio band and B) the songs have more energy and warmth. Well, except "Air", which sounds like a CS leftover, but surprisingly, a really good one. There are a few complete throwaways like "Stale By Noon" and "Blue", but "Under A Rock", "Poison", and "The Dirt" are excellent indie rockers, and the rest alternates between slow blocks of synth fuzz and pretty acoustic numbers. "La Loose" is just awful, though. It sounds like a trust fund at a beach party with a bunch of asymmetrical hairstyles or something. And what sucks is that underneath all the cloying "ooh ooh"s and tacky synth shit is a really pretty, sad song. If you see Waxahatchee live (which I totally reccomend), she plays it alone on an acoustic, and it magically turns from 'track I'll never listen to intentionally again' to 'heartwrenching'.
I know this sounds unenthusiastic for being "such a bigh fannn", it's just that little of it has grabbed me anywhere near as hard as any of her pre-2013 material. I can actually understand why people would like this, unlike SOME ALBUMS I KNOW, and I'm sure I'll be listening to this intermittently for a long while to come, it's just not going to be another 'tea and a journal on the front porch in the rain' album for me. I'm super happy she's finally getting the praise she deserves, but I'm just not a fan of this Pitchfork-y musical direction.
4.) Jeff Rosenstock - We Cool?
This album is great, but I seriously can't stomach this shit right now. Admittedly it's been a long while since I listened to anything Rosenstock related, but I really don't remember his lyrics ever being this bleak or hopeless before. I mean, look at some of this:
"I got so tired of discussing my future I’ve started avoiding the people I love Evenings of silence and mornings of nausea Shake and sweat and I can’t throw up. I got so tired of discussing my future That I walk through my life like I’m the only one"
"Were you supposed to not go to college? Stay in your mom’s house on the computer googling grief cures, talking to no one Waiting for life to start feeling better? Waiting for pain to not be a constant? Waiting to feel like anyone’s honest? Waiting for me to stop being sarcastic Because I can’t accept all the bad things that happen."
"Getting drunk all alone in a quiet hotel room. You repeat all the most shameful things that you’ve been through. It dawns on you, that it’s true, fucking nobody loves you. They’re waiting for you to fall, and take your place."
"When your friends are buying starter homes with their accomplishments Drinking at a house show can feel childish and embarrassing With people glaring because despite what the advertisements said: Malt liquor doesn’t make you young."
The thing is, these lyrics don't really resolve themselves through ironic posturing or pep-talk choruses like they might have in the Bomb The Music Industry! halcyon days. They're just... deadening, and if the music wasn't the kind of bombastic carnival shit Jeff's practically trademarked (NOW SKA-FREE), this would probably be unlistenable. I guess it might be me, but all the stuff on here about feeling like a failure, struggling with personal loss, and sinking into numbness through vices isn't cathartic as it is horrifying right now.
But hey! Those hooks!
Okay fuck this I'll make a second installment later.
So I'll level with you: I've dranketh a few beers.
You know, the funny thing about sex dreams is that they're almost always frustrating. Sure, when you're young and utterly inexperienced it's like "hey, whoa there that was" and revel in the untimely amazingness of this blooming frontier. But then, sadly, you get old and jaded it becomes just an annoying middle-of-the-night thing you don't wanna bother with when it jars you awake.
THE POINT, though, IS THAT wait I dunno. I feel like I'm supposed to be writing some shit about music, right? I still do that, don't I? Even though no one reads it?
But anyway, sex dreams. When sleeping next to a strictly platonic friend, they're somewhat uninvited. On the other hand, here's what happened: I was hanging out in a bizarre, impossibly lit, labyrinthine mess of a building complex with a friend I see yearly, and blah blah blah we ended up in a dining hall far too schmaltzy to be ever contain the people I was imagining (crusties in suits aerating wine in crystal chalices) and one of them begins relaying to me a sexual encounter with a young musician I've had a crush on 4ever. Sweet guy that he is, he initiates a flashback sequence to illustrate said hook-up, and anoints me to star as the roll of him making tender love to [name withheld because common decency] with great gusto and subliminal detail. The moral of the story is hell yeah and high five, brain.
Which brings us to the music albums full of songs you hear:
Waxahatchee is the singer-songwriter name (and recently, full band title) of Katie Crutchfield, previously of The Ackleys, P.S. And The Eliot Tones and sIhshjaksjka. Okay, so I may have mentioned this before, but P.S. Eliot's first LP, Introverted Romance In Our Troubled Minds is one of my favorite albums ever. Like, probably number two on the list between The Broadways' Broken Star and Band's Album. Prior to Katie's debut with Waxahatchee, I'd already become familiar with the bedroom tapes she recorded under the Guided By Voices-referencing title King Everything, so I felt somewhat prepared for what was about to drop.
HOW DEVASTATINGLY WRONG I WAS.
But no I kinda was prepared. That said, both the split with (bleah) Chris "The Clavicle" Clavin and the LP American Weekend are quite a bit darker than any of her previous outings, with a crackling ambiance brought on by the cassette-found-in-an-attic recording quality.
“to anyone who had woke up and realized their identity is blurry, has
had to clumsily get to know themselves, has hit a bottom, has felt
self-deprecating and vagrant, and to anyone who has ridden out a
shitstorm.”
This summation - which she prefaced American Weekend with - seems to shed some Litebright pegs on why this album hits me like a truck. SEE, I've been in all these stupid places a lot, and perhaps so much so that nearly all of these songs move me to tears every time I hear them (which has proven inconvenient). The sparse, nostalgic production and wordy, beautifully articulate lyrics set to such a raw performance are incredible, and tracks like "Luminary Blake", "Bathtub", and "Grass Stain" may actually dethrone a good deal of my favorite P.S Eliot songs for their pure emotional resonance. SRS BIZ, HERE. God I'm tired.
Since this release, Katie's gone on to record with a full band under the same name (which I wrote about who cares fuck you), and while that album is similarly fantastic, the aesthete here kills me. I imagine it's the backdrop of her career that primarily enticed me to giving this a chance, but this is a total stand alone. Pick up a copy at Don Giovanni Records and stuff. Tell 'em some blog asshole sent 'ya!
Also, and irrelevantly:
I've actually been keeping an ear more on the avant-garde side of the pretentiousness spectrum lately, but here's my impression of me writing about that sort of stuff after a zillion year break spent word pooping about Blink 182 or whatever the fuck it is I write about now:
"This is liek 3 hours of plinkety plink piano shit. I dunno if it's all performed or written by Aki Takahashi 'cause there's all these names on the front but it's some good shit, brah [tokes on a marijuana cigarette of weed]. I think it's considered "modern composition" but there's defz an Indeterminacy bend or maybe it's Serialism? I dunno. I have a hard time identifying parameters on that sort of malarky with all it's "tone rows" and "equal pitch weight and frequency" and Schoenburger and fries stuff. REC'D HARD!"
Several days later, and far more sober:
There is remarkably little information online about this album, but from what I can tell, this is a triple LP from 1973 of Takahashi performing her own interpretations on the works of her Japanese contemporaries (Joji Yuasa, Toshi Ichiyanagi, Toru Takemitsu, etc) on the first two discs, and a number of well-known European composers on the third (Iannis Xenakis, Pierre Boulez, Stockhausen, etc). Admittedly I've only really dabbled in the classical and modern composer realms, since the "academic" side of the avant-garde has never held a great deal of interest for me. After listening to this, I doubt I'll be losing my shit to some John Cage anytime soon, but this kind of thing does generate a weird experience. Piano Space is an extremely minimalistic, dark and abstract work performed entirely through uncomfortable clusters of notes, silence, and some vocal improv. There's always been something extremely disquieting and morbidly fascinating to me about utter abstraction - in music or otherwise - and this definitely nails the head on the hit. I doubt I'll be listening to this a great deal, but stuff like this, Don Cherry and John Applegate's Human Music, Chamberpot's s/t, and other formless free improv units are things I like to visit the same way as I do with French New Wave horror films and other brutally disturbing, humorless bunk like that: more as an experience than something to put on repeat.
Okay yeah, so I might actually be less trite talking about this stuff drunk.
Hey whoever, I think I might be back for a while since I'm quaking with inspiration (ew) and the bulk of my ridiculous fortress of stress (mortared with insecurity) has been leveled hxc. As such, blogging about sweet pop-punk bands and clownshoes avant-garde whatever will probably ensue on a quasi-regular basis! WHEEEEEE
But first, remember when I wrote those long, unrelatably vitriolic posts on songs I didn't think were so good?
I'm re-reading them now and all I'm struck with is a baton of embarrassment. It's like "omg shut up you're like that totally unfunny dejected "special snowflake" introvert who's sooo cultured and srs and opinionated about everything and sits in the back during parties while everyone else dances unselfconsciously to phat jamz and talks about video games and anime using words like "beautiful" and "fucking amazing" and is like super vocal about how stupid religion is and agh fuckdksn go listen to Sleepytime Gorilla Museum and watch "The Amazing Atheist" with your ponytail you wacky narcissistic manchild get a therapist and leave the house or something" and such and such. Sorry if you found those funny BECAUSE I'M CALLING YOU OUT SO HARD RIGHT NOW.
Well, not really. I just find them kind of embarrassing, personally.
BUT HEY, this isn't the start of another eye rolling, self-deprecating pre-music discussion rant. I think I'm actually over that stuff 4 realz and even that last scoff at my expense was more about drawing a line between 2012 edition Steve and the self-assured, literary phenomenon and bastion of wisdom and who now speaks before you. You sheee, 5 months can be a long time when you're on the road (especially in your early 20s, I presume) and the last 5 months were nothing if not a particularly long time. Now I feel like a totez different person - one who might write these blogs in hopes of slowly improving instead of delicately posturing and mercilessly editing my ramblings to appear as a more experienced writer. That makes some sense, no? For someone who constantly referenced the abysmal readership here (no biggie), I certainly put a lot of self-conscious scrutiny to work in tackling such topics as "Banner Pilot is sorta boring" and "Matchbox 20 is corny".
But enough of the past. Let us partake in some sweet, sweet musical nectar:
ITEM THE FIRSTTH:
I love the bananas out of Katie Crutchfield. Up until "discovering" P.S. Eliot's Introverted Romance In Our Troubled Minds - perhaps my favorite album of the ever next to Broken Star - I really never had a favorite songwriter. Since then, I've trekked through everything with her name on it and have not once been disappointed: from the fuzztone pop-punk adorableness of Bad Banana, the rapidly improving bedroom acoustics of King Everything all the way to Waxahatchee's American Weekend, then way back to the teenaged mediocrity of The Ackleys (I know, but I wasn't "disappointed" - they were, like, 16 okay?). Her wordy, bookwormish, emotionally conscious lyrics of heartbreak and the like always get to me in the best way possible, and I'd be seriously okay with songs like "Bathtub" and "Incoherent Love Songs" chilling in my brain for always. All this said, there is a new Waxahatchee album out now and I'm hankerin' pretty hard to hear it all the way through again. I mean, listen:
I "wait...what?"ed pretty hard when I first heard this, and perhaps you will, too. If you've heard Waxahatchee's split with (ugh) Chris Clavin or the full length LP, American Weekend, you'd know what to expect: a lonely voice lilting out from the fuzz-drenched lone acoustic guitarwork and little else. BUT YOU'D BE WRONG MOTHERFUCKER. That was harsh. But you would be wrong, 'cause the production this time around is totally not 4-track-inside-a-garbage-can quality, and on top of that, additional instrumentation provided by Katie's boyfriend and... I think her sister's boyfriend? fleshes out the sound from 'bedroom rehearsal starkness' to 'restrained session musician fullness'. While this transition might do away with many of the old style's charms, the songwriting is still top notch, the lyrics still painfully honest and sad, and the amount of variation on here makes me really excited to see where the project will head next.
The album was streaming not-so-long ago, but evidently it's been taken down, so pick up a copy here and maybe that awesome haircut t-shirt that you'll feel compelled to ship to me because you're so grateful for my return to Blogland.
(srsly I'm becoming way poor)
ITEM THE SECONDTH:
Did you ever notice that when you look at a Screaming Females' album cover, you're like "that is the ugliest, most unpleasant thing you could possibly put on there" BUT THEN the next album comes out and somehow it's even uglier? Okay well maybe they never outdid how fucking grotesque Power Move is, but they deserve props for putting in a pretty solid effort every year.
I know that was irrelevant but I didn't realize Waxahatchee and Laura Stevenson were both on Don Giovanni (home of Screaming Females) so I had to see what else there was that I was forgetting. And then tell you about it here on the internet.
Anywaifer, Laura Stevenson and NOT The Cans are putting out a new album real soon and I'm crazy excited. I mean, The Cans are definitely on it but everywhere I look it just says "Laura Stevenson - Wheel", so... I guess it's just implied? But I digress because I'm a terrible writer. The point is, these new tracks sound fantastic and the cover art is gorgeous - almost like something you'd find on an old psych-folk or krautrock LP. "Runner" is an energetic burst of beautiful indie-folk pop with the kind of hooks, instrumentation, and vocal harmonies that make me want to listen to it forever (which I'm working on, actually...) and "L-Dopa" is a Big Black cover. Okay no its not. It is a gorgeous 6-minute piece with a lush string section and lyrics that'll make your eyes water and your bottom lip quiver embarrassingly in public, though. From these two tracks its hard to say whether Wheel will be the same huge leap Sit/Resist was to A Record, but I'm hoping it's at least on the level of it's predecessor, which I think it's nearly flawless.
Check out the new tracks and pre-order wheel heeyar.
Also, does anyone still find it funny that Laura Stevenson was the keyboardist in Bomb The Music Industry? Because I don't know why but I still do.
ITEM THE THIRDST:
Look at me, being all up to date and relevant and stuff. Supporting the scene like it's nobody's business. You may have already heard from literally everyone in the world that RVIVR has a new album and it's radcakes, but they, like... do. "I got into RVIVR back when their first EP dropped back in the day", I said to the ever-so-slightly younger punks I was addressing, "and I've watched them improve hugely from there. This means that my opinion that their new LP is the best thing they've ever done is objectively purer than yours, and if you feel differently, your insecurities will make you question your personal truths. Oog. Scene veteran." But srs. It's really, really good, and I definitely do think it's a huge step up from their self-titled, which is saying a lot about how awesome I think it is. There's less space in the mix, but it gives the album a super full sounding brightness, especially when the extra voices and organ come in and kick you in the tearducts. On top of that, Matt spends a bit less time showing the world how to enunciate loudly and actually SINGS a few times. Not super well, but it's cool that they're trying new stuff. And yeah, it still has that element of corniness in the lyrics and bombast, but if you're unlike the old, overserious Steve of last year, this shouldn't be any barrier to you losing your shit to almost every song on here. Especially the last song, which makes everything feel so epic and heartwrenching.
Oh, and there's a musical trilogy! Like Daydream Nation! Except the first part sucks instead of the third part. Alright, it doesn't really suck. The lyrics make me cringe pretty hard, though. So un-posi. :-(
Listen to it heeeeaaaarrrr and then check back EVERY SECOND because you'll be able to buy a real copy pretty soon.
Well. That wasn't the worst return to writing I've ever made. Unless it was. It's hard to say these days when the self-hatred isn't spewing out of every pore constantly X forever. Fuck yeah, not hating my every move. Either way, one things for certain: it was probably a way weird thing to use that particular picture of Katie Crutchfield instead of, y'know, an actual press photo.
