I love this song. I love this song so much, when I listen to it, it feels like my heart is in my throat and that there might be a god out there in the world somewhere, though I'm aware that the thought is foolish, I don't care, this song is just that good.
I've been going crazy latel---I'm going to talk personally for a moment.
I've been going crazy lately. I can't seem to handle my shit. Lately all the memories have been happening at once, so, like, imagine that YouTube video of that guy who's going through all those different dances, and now imagine that your head is doing that, and you're reliving memories of all these women you'll never see again! Oh lord, I have a problem. It's called the crazy.
Earlier this month when I posted other songs off this new Circulatory System album, I said, and I quote, "There are songs on this album---The Spinning Continuous sounds like a real song, maybe even an Olivia Tremor Control song, and it's fucking awesome and I'm an asshole for not posting it here."
So, I decided that I owed it to you, whoever you are, to post one of the good songs on this album. Though now that I'm listening to it with earbuds in the middle of the library it feels really overwhelming, like my fucking head is going to explode.
I like this song mainly for the part (the whole middle section really) where WCH sings "do you think we can lift the shadow, do you think, do you think, do you think, do you think at all". Probably my favorite moment on the whole album.
Los Angeles concert-goers have this problem with not showing up for opening acts. It's a sad thing (and I didn't notice it in San Diego probably only because the median age of the crowds at the shows I went to down there was below eighteen---and this is because the only band I saw down there multiple times in 2003 and 2004 was Rilo Kiley) because so often there is at least one good opening act (and if you're drunk they're usually all good. So many stupid Angelenos missed Sara Lov at the Sea Wolf show. Red Wire Black Wire were seen by maybe twenty people on a night that Spaceland was later packed.
What's the deal, Los Angeles? Why you gotta go somewhere else to overpay for drinks in LA when you can just overpay for drinks at the venue and potentially suffer through some lousy music in the hopes you'll hear at least one or two good songs? Have you no courage?
I saw these guys open for The Polyphonic Spree, probably at the Henry Fonda or El Rey, back in 2004. I had to drive up from San Diego, and then back home after the show. I bought their album, the MP3 you're listening to is actually from the MP3s I ripped off the CD myself back in 2004. Do you hear any degradation? No? That's good... The CD doesn't play anymore.
Their other really good song, Wait In A Line, which opens this album, is spoiled by extremely vapid lyrics, and nearly redeemed by the generally interesting nature of the song.
Oh fuck, listening to this song is going to make me want to skip out on the fourth night of the Saint Motel residency at Spaceland because Wye Oak is opening for Blitzen Trapper (all previously featured) the same night.
You see, this song is magical, and I just found partially complete lyrics while sitting here in the library, so of course I just had to put my earphones in (which are, unfortunately, normal iPod earbuds) and, of course, I'm high as shit. The air conditioning here is sublime, and I feel totally anonymous sitting in this vast building with so many words printed on so many yellowed pages---so fuck, I say to you, what the fuck am I supposed to feel but utterly blissed?
But no, my allegiance to Saint Motel is one of a freshly minted fan to a freshly minted band: silly, and perhaps misguided, but full of joy 'n vigor, so I'll miss out on Wye Oak... but it's not like I'll never see them. I haven't even listened to their first album yet, just this one.
The rest of the album isn't quite like this song, but it's still pretty good. For Prayer is a good song that is similar to this one (it comes before this one on the album, for instance, so their track numbers are obviously close to each other---Was that funny? No.) in the loudQUIETloud "pixies dynamic". the guitar goes dang-dang-dang-DAAnANNaNNNNNN--
This song was supposed to be in hello, my ghost but got edited out because the album's mix is much quieter than most modern albums (or my rip of it is critically flawed).
I can tell the guy across from me is annoyed by my machine-gun fire-like typing speed. I should do a speed test a couple times just to annoy him further.
This one gave me 96 WPM. That's cool. I'm focusing so much on typing tests I can't even pay attention to see if the guy next to me is annoyed. What a crock of shit. Totes backfire.
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.