I'd hate to come across as one of those people who is excessively cynical and jaded, but sometimes when people are just too bohemian it just pisses me off, it makes me want to break things, to call them liars to their faces, scoff and roll my eyes. The woman behind this band is one of those people. In an attempt to find anyone discussing anything about this song without describing what it sounds like ("However, looking at the albums that I value most closely, the ones that make me feel the closest to the artist – these albums often do not contain those studio enhancements, and are relatively “lo-fi.”" Oh-fucking-please.) and not what it feels like and coming up short---cause apparently music blogging is all about wanking yourself off on how many words you can cram into a sentence describing the texture of the static on the guitar---I stumbled on this pseudo-interview with Merrill Garbus, the woman whose voice you hear on this song.

In it her first sentence is, "The year I graduated high school was also the year that Zaire became the Democratic Republic of Congo: 1997" like I give a fuck or that it is even relevant to anything. Is this interview about your music or what a pretentious 'tard you can make yourself out to be just in the first thing you say?

"I went to a camp in Massachusetts, where my mom taught music and played for folk dancing. It wasn’t a camp for kids, mostly, but for adults" and that sounds like the kind of place where kids get molested and used in bizarre sex rituals their brains sympathetically force them to forget.

Then there's "When I was 21 I lived in Kenya and became friends with some hip-hop musicians who lived in Dandora, one of the bigger slums in Nairobi," who the fuck IS this chick? Were her parents filthy rich or something? We're just going to fly our child all over the world so she can have this rich bohemian lifestyle and grow up to make indie records after hanging out in slums with black people even though she is a white girl!

As part of that experience she adds, "I would wake up in the morning and go to get these donuts, fried fresh. They were delicious little golden puffs of dough. A whole bag of about 12 for 2 shillings, so like maybe 30 cents. I don’t eat doughy fried things anymore."

OK, I'm sorry, but there is only one thing I can take away from all this babble: This chick is obviously completely fucking insane and is making all of this up. When you throw that kind of detail into a story when you're talking about yourself casually to an interviewer there is only one option: you are completely full of shit. Again, I'd hate to come across as super jaded and cynical, but seriously, even Barack Obama doesn't tell stories this pretentious about himself and he probably has the right to 'cause he's the fucking President.

Also: "I don't eat doughy fried things anymore"? So you're probably a chronic liar and you're joyless for no reason at all. Fried food is bad! No one eat it! Nevermind that you can eat it and then you can exercise and, you know, keep enjoying fried things because they are tasty and delicious! I mean, if it's good enough for people living in slums why isn't it good enough for you?

I would make up some elaborate back story about my awesome bohemian life just to have an example here, something about how I lived in some small country you're not even sure really exists but you assume it does 'cause I am talking about it, and how I made friends with some of the natives even though I was white and I was sure they were going to give me AIDS if they even touched me, and they played the most bizarre form of jungle hip hop dance music and it was so influential on me when I was 16 and living here by myself because my parents thought I needed to experience what it was like to build houses in impoverished countries and after the first week or two I didn't even miss running water and there is just something spiritual, you know, about having to boil all your water before you even use it to brush your teeth 'cause they don't even know what the word potable means, you know, and then I hid in the woods for two years when I was eighteen deep in the forests of Montana with some mountain people, really secluded stuff you know people don't even you know know these people exist but I sought them out 'cause I am JUST THAT FUCKING COOL so please listen to my music buy my album it's on a major independent label.

As an aside, I like this song a lot, I think it feels cool and it makes me want to sing. The rest of the album sucks ass. There is no emotion in it, it's kind of like someone really boring just talking in your ear for an hour and when they're done talking you realize that even though you were listening you can't remember a goddamn thing they said. She also rAnDoM CaPs eVeRy SoNg TiTlE wHiCh Is SoMe AnNoYiNg AsS lItTle KiD sHiT sHe ShOuLd Be SlApPeD fOr.

To quote that blog post again: "This leads to an intimate experience, as you get the feeling that you’re listening to some unearthed cassette tapes found in your grandmother’s attic, discovering a lost gem from the past." Oh fucking please. Any time you listen to an album like that sure it's all like WOW the first time but then you listen to it a couple more times and you realize why that shit was hidden in your grandmother's attic never to be heard by anyone ever again: it sucks ass.