I’ve been stuck in 2007 lately, because I guess there was a shit load of music released back then that I somehow missed. According to something I wrote back in 2008, I already thought 2007 was an incredible year of music. I don’t disagree with many of my choices back then (though most of what I say about everything is retarded), most of the bands have become definite favorites of mine since then (though Jesca Hoop and Christine Fellows were both fads motivated by women that have since faded into the ether so my interest in both of them has waned considerably). Now I find that there’s all this other great stuff, by bands like Pela, Andrew Jackson Jihad, Ha Ha Tonka, David Vandervelde, Tulsa, Liam Finn, and now, finally, Holy Fuck.

The best thing I can say about this album is that, and I’m sure this would be far more pronounced witnessing the dual drummers and stage full of stuff, when you listen to them you can’t help but utter the band’s name at least a couple times.

A friend and I went on a minor road trip around the rural and mountainous sections of Lower Upper Southern California (that twilight zone where Anaheim never seems to end no matter how far East you drive and then it ends but there’s nowhere else to go but back to Anaheim) and the entire time, while fluctuating between various levels of sobriety and sanity, we looped this album. There was no reason to put anything else on, because Holy Fuck’s LP matches the mood of probably every evening. We explored abandoned houses, stood alone on the top of mountains, and every step of the way Holy Fuck was there to score it for us, keeping the mood high and the air charged with the desire to adventure.