The only reason I clicked through to the article was in the hopes that they played "What a Fool Believes". I held my breath for nothing. We need some young bands taking inspiration from that song. You can get people dancing with your melody, you don't need to just layer on more and more beats. Write a great dancing melody and make everything else in the song bow down to it.
Clarity was such a great record.
I was in my first year in college when it came out. I had scored a single room in the dorm. I was pumped about this, till I realized it meant that I not only didn't know anyone on campus, but I also had no reason to ever get to know anyone. I hid in my room and didn't say a word for most of the year. I was a loner. Out of place. I ate alone. Listened to music. Wore headphones even when I wasn't. It just felt less embarrassing to sit alone in the commons with headphones on.
I discovered Jimmy Eat World and fell in love with the tracks I was able to get off of Napster. I ordered a physical copy of Clarity and checked the shipping every couple of hours for several days waiting for it to arrive. A few afternoons later I eagerly checked my mailbox and found something more than just junk mail for once. I was shaking with excitement as I tore open the package and stepped out the door into the courtyard with my shiny new jewel case in hand. As I popped it open, however, the disk was not seated in the shell properly and it flipped out into the air. I dropped everything I was holding and fumbled for it, but it fell to the grounded and rolled and bounced down the steps. In every direction people were laughing and moving out of my way as I ran after it. At the bottom of the steps it finally fell over and I scrambled to pick it up and dust it off.
Sheepishly I walked back up to the top of the steps. I sat down right there and stairs and slid it into my Walkman. Three seconds in and already the disk was skipping. Everything from the second track on was fine, but "Table for Glasses" was almost completely destroyed.
I didn't cry. I didn't react at all. In fact, I felt nothing. I was numb to it by this point. I simply put on my headphones and pretended the album started with "Lucky Denver Mind" from that point on. I moved on, damaged, skipping, but alive, bandaged by music. Bandaged by Clarity.
I'm glad to find so many other Rossen fans. He's such a quiet personality. I feel like you really have to be paying attention in order to notice how great he is at what he does.
I was introduced to Gizzly Bear through the Take Away show recording of "Knife" it was entirely acapella, beatboxed and handclapped. It blew me away. I went back and watched it so many times. There was so much positive playful energy swirled in with obvious glistening talent. Everyone had their place and their part to play and they fit together so well. Except for the short guy in front that kind of seemed irrelevant. I was describing the band to some friends a week or so later and I only remembered the three of them. Oh yeah, and their's the other guy. But there is always "that other guy" in a band, right, he's probably not important.
I remind myself of this often, because my first impressions where so entirely wrong. The short guy walking in front snapping his fingers and supporting Chris' percussion sounds would one day join a short list of my favorite songwriters and musicians. So, who else would I laugh off and take no notice of? What quiet talent would I shoo off the stage so that other louder talents could take their place?
I honestly believe Department of Eagles 'In Ear Park' was a better album than any Grizzly Bear record. And that's not a knock against Grizzly Bear because I love all of their albums as well. But 'In Ear Park' had a timeless magic to it. It was haunted with all of these deep felt emotions. It was like the nostalgia itself was playing the instruments for him.
I don't think people gave it the right attention. Pitchfork panned it, and then left it off their year end list. And everyone sort of approached it as a placeholder "solo" album between the real deal Grizzly Bear records, but that just ignores the history of the album. It had been in the works since before Grizzly Bear existed. And it was a serious labor of love of everyone involved, especially Dan would poured his heart out in a somewhat concept album about his relationship to his father. And what a unique relationship to explore in modern music, but to also do it with a collection of songs that each stand on their own as a creative and singular accomplishment, is just really praiseworthy.
For example, the way "Waves of Rye" just slowly spirals into space as if it were lifted in the air by a tornado. And then it's carried straight up to heaven in the final fourth where "Heaven is a ballroom with high ceilings, filled with white balloons and smoke machines" It's masterful. Every part of it is meticulously timed and every word is crafted to align with a particular mood as the song meanders the dream. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkXKhd0k7iI)
A few months ago I had a dream that I went to a Bruce Springsteen concert. I was pretty excited, and I found I was going to be sitting on the front row. Then, before the concert started, Bruce himself came out and shook my hand and thanked me for coming. He said he was looking for someone to volunteer for a special interactive thing during the concert and he wanted to know if I was interested. I was beside myself. Hell yeah I was going to do whatever he wanted me to. He shook my hand again and then went back stage.
A few minutes later one of his crew motioned me over to a seat on the far side of the stage, near the steps. I hurried over. He quietly sat me down and handed me a bankers box full of papers. It turns out I had mistakenly agreed to do Bruce Springsteen's taxes while he was giving the concert.
So, the entire time he was out on stage rocking out, I was over in the corner with a calculator and a pile of confusing papers trying to read numbers off forms in the strobe lights. I was actually frustrated by the music because I was trying to think and it was just so loud and everyone around me kept standing up and dancing and knowing over my well sorted little piles.
Screw you Bruce Springsteen. I'm never dreaming about going to one of your concerts ever again, I can tell you that.
I'm an outsider here, because I haven't ever listened to Smith Westerns. But I HAVE been listening to Cullen Omori a lot over the past few days and there are some serious gems on that album.
These Whitney tracks are also great though.
blochead leans back in his lawn chair, reached into a blue cooler full of ice and without opening his eyes cracks the top off another super chill Kendrick Lamar.
It's a shame that the shamed head of Donald Trump didn't make the album cover crop.
This song is great though. Just the right amount of tension that leads you on into warm water. No explosions, no fireworks, just warm water that slowly crawls up your body to rest underneath your chin.
I was super excited because at first glance I thought the album was called The Life of Potato. In my mind it will always just be called The Life of Potato.
Seriously, he gave us a remix of "Blue Bucket of Gold" and I was so angry when I saw it was less than 15 minutes long. He needs to at least release a live album of these reinterpretations.
I agree with both of you. Except I have to defend the album Fate as a definite masterwork. Sometimes their songs can be pleasant but forgetful with a collection of standouts, but Fate was top to bottom a fantastic album. Great songs, great sequencing, dynamic range of moods that fit together wonderfully, a consistent mood and theme.
Anyone that has ever had any interest in the band and wants to know where to start HAS to pick up Fate.
This group and everyone in it deserve so much more respect and attention than they receive. There are real sparks flying around in every one of these guy's heads.
According to WebMD a "Yezzy" is someone infected with the Yeezy virus, which attaches to the patient's Larynx causing respiratory problems and inflammation of the ego. This condition often leads to delusions of grandeur, irregular outburst of hot air, and erratic behavior eventually leading to a beautiful death by jumping out the window, letting everything go.
Remember when that guy accused Win Butler of stealing his basketball, and it was like a weird online beef for like two weeks? That was weird. I hope that guy eventually got his basketball back.
He has mastered this character. Even his stage movements are perfectly over the top and satirical in a way that you can't tell if he is being serious or not, because they are done too well. It's a beautiful thing.
Oh man.
I'm just going to continue to pretend that the official video is THIS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZIN4K3ruUxU
And it's the best video that will be released all year.
Oh hey. I forgot all about this. So, in case you are still checking this thread to stroke your throbbing upvote cock. Fuck you.
You don't know my life. You call me Glib and Pseudo-intellectual? You and every other asshole in this comment section are making JOKES about child rape. JOKES. And then you try to get up on some moral high horse and call me out for asking questions? Because if we are all so certain that what this asshole did, why the fuck are you making jokes about it for internet points on a music news site. And why is this site posting interviews about this pig for clicks and ad revenue? And why is Huffington Post making a fucking interview that was only there to bait a known child rapist into walking out (She even tells him to). Why? Why? Why are YOU and every asshole on this page, this website and some garbage news site just trying to get their own selfish jollies out of this situation. That was my question. Not the shit you tried to put into my mouth.
Take your stupid strawman arguments and idiot internet banter somewhere else. Merry Christmas. I upvoted all of your comments. Enjoy the little tickling feeling the little +1s give you.
Oh, and Cheap Suit never loved you.
I am not informed, and I don't really care. But I'm bored.
How can we all be so sure that he has done all of these awful things people are talking about, without it having been proven in court and resulting with him behind bars?
I can agree to that. I was the biggest opponent of Merriweather when it came out, just for that reason. Everyone was talking about how it was the new Pet Sounds and ridiculous things like that, and it just turned me off, because it was nothing more than a fun collection of songs, and I don't believe the band had any intention to create something different than that. So, I had to get beyond the majority of Animal Collective's fans, at the time, in order to enjoy the album for what it was, at that time.
My claim at the time was that everyone's love for the album was really a love for "My Girls" as a single. Everyone loved that song and was accepting the rest along with it. I feel slightly vindicated now that my claims have come true. I just checked Last.fm and "My Girls" has 2 plays for every one play of the next most listened to song. People still love Merriweather, but mostly it's that one song that the rest of the album orbits around like the rings of Saturn. This is, by the way, also the case with Dirty Projector's Bitte Orca. Which is basically just a container for "Stillness is the Move". This isn't a rigorous study however. I should really do a full analysis to find out which highly celebrated albums in the past 10 years have very low album plays and very high singles plays.
I also enjoyed much of Centipede. But it was super exhausting almost immediately. The pacing was just wrong. It was a comic book and you couldn't pause to take a sip of your Hi-C. Just action after action after action ontop of action. So murky. So many layers.
I believe the album was actually designed to reminisce on the nostalgic sound of an arcade, where all of the machines were playing their songs and noises simultaneously over top of one another. And you could walk around the room placing your head next to each of them in turn and get a different experience. It was a glorious time, and I miss those filthy carpets and gaudy Ms. Pac-Man and Centipede machines. But I can't listen to them for an hour without getting sick to my stomach.
Hidden beneath this noise are some truly great songs though. So, I still listen to it often in small bites.
So many drums and they choose to make their vocals into yet another percussion track. I can get behind this.
People being critical need to relax. This is fun music, guys. It's a bunch of kids playing with a balloon at a pizza party sleep over. There isn't a referee. There aren't rules. It's just some boys giggling and diving all over the room. It's awful if you stand off to the side and try to figure it all out. But if you join in? Wow, that's life.
This is awesome. Thanks for sharing. I'm glad you got a good memory in the Moscow airport. It's not an awful place. And I don't know why TGIFridays was always so much better in Russia.
You reminded me of a time when I was younger and naive..er. My first time traveling through Europe and I end up on the American side of customs in Amsterdam. I was stuck there for five hours and I had to pee so bad. I couldn't find the bathroom anyway. After about three hours of painfully holding it in I got the nerve to wander into the janitor area and risk accidentally leaving security. That's when I learned what a W/C is.
I love Animal Collective. But I almost feel bad for people that have to sit in the Baltimore Airport all day listening to them on a loop. It's not exactly Adele in terms of hospitality.
This is reminding me of a time when I was stranded in the airport in Egypt. It was about 3 in the morning. I was there with two friends of mine leaving after an exhausting week. We got to the airport 6 hours early because we were scared to death of missing our flight. We walked in, and the airport was a cavernous empty tomb. Just this massive surreal empty cave. After passing through security there wasn’t a soul in the place for several hours. And the whole time we were there, for six hours straight, from walking through the doors to stepping on the plane, they had the same Kenny G song playing on repeat.
Kenny G. over and over and over and over… It just echoed off the ceiling and down the hallways. It was like the place was haunted by the Egyptian mummy ghost of Kenny G. Like Kenny G had been the Egyptian god of the dead and this was the song that he played as you passed down the reeded river from life, through the veil of darkness and beyond into an ocean of fire and eternal pain.
We just sat against a wall staring dumbly into the abyss as the song deformed and twisted into grotesque shapes above our heads. There was a point in the middle when I was in a half conscious state that I came to perfect enlightened clarity and understood why someone would hate America on such a violent and destructive scale. It was as if the best commentary that anyone could make about the blind self righteous nature of capitalist western culture could be summed up in the simple repetition of this arrogant horn song. I felt like I was being told why I was so rightfully hated. "Hello American. This is what you have done. Look at it. Look at it!"
To this day, whenever I hear Kenny G playing over the supermarket speakers I feel the icy hand of death as it wraps around my throat and I think, “How did we ever let things go this far?”
This was good. I enjoy watching this man work. I couldn't help but feel bad for him near the end when he throws in the line "I just picked up the piano yesterday." and then later, just before he haphazardly pounds out his conclusion, when the baby starts crying. Sometimes the toughest audience is an empty room.
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