Discovery S/T. Surely this record will be disparaged. Although, Pitchfork, for edification, seem keen on it, but then Andrew Sullivan reads Pitchfork. It's fun. It's cheesy. It is from someone from Vampire Weekend and chief precious Vampire appears on one track even. It's not fantastic. It is good fun. It's smart enough to keep from being obvious and it is difficult to picture its creators as pimps and pseudo-wannabes though maybe they are regular attendees of Coco Rosie's "Kill Whitey" parties that Brainwashed was so up in arms about when they weren't being greased by Kranky records. Do they all work for Kranky and does everyone who works for Kranky really love Loscil? I was at the grocery store and a man was wiping the rain off of his brand new Kia. I appreciated that he was taking pride in his Kia. It is raining here almost always. Every day. This is not normal. But then there isn't anything normal about weather, people can't seem to grasp that an average temperature does not mean that it is meant to be 87 on this date this year and next and the next and for the next 75 after that. It means that on some years it was 77 and on others it was 97 and all points in between. People only remember remarkable years, I can remember 1999 because it was like this year, it rained every afternoon during the summer. It was my first year in Denver. Then in 2002 it never rained. Were the members of Discovery yet born in 2002? The nice thing about youth is you aren't impeded by nostalgia. When making this album the boys were probably waxing reminiscent over Spin City. The first track is nearly over, it's basic corny indie dance music. It's VHS or Beta before they tried to disguise the fact that they were corny and from Kentucky. Before they became a lie to everything we hold dear. Before they betrayed the principles of corny indie dance music by thinking they were a real dance band. How many records did Vampire Weekend sell? They are played on the corporate "indie" station here. It is just A-Punk but still is almost a staple. The singer here has the same gentle, undescended voice as the fellow in Vampire Weekend, as proud to be hairless, as Bill Meyers would say. I always credit him, was he the first? Who knows. Writing lyrics about the internets seems a good way of dating yourself quickly, ask Figurine. Second track. A bit more ooomph, it's got some spy music appeal in the intro, a bit of Leslie Howard making clandestine trips to Portugal to agitate for change, to keep Franco out of the war, to soundtrack the chase as the Ju-88's were trailing the commercial airliner intent on making sure Ashley Wilkes never did make it back to Melanie. Leslie Howard was also the Scarlet Pimpernel which is allegedly some swashbuckling adventure but the adventure seems relegated to the rough and tumble world of cravats and boot buckles. Apparently he swept Merle Oberon off of her feet but what a strange lady she was, keeping her mother as her "Maid" going to Australia as a pretend Australian in some sort of official capacity having sordid affairs with men with facial scars. When will Emily Blunt play her in a mega-flopperoo biopic? I love this record. It is dancey, sorta, but it's tuneful enough to be a physical sensation in spirit as well. It is soft centered. When watching George Sanders take ages to kill Merle in The Lodger we could let our mind drift during the interminable dialogue about evil and genius and resolve to shuffle our hearts in time to Can You Discover?. I did mean Bill Meyers, not Bill Moyers. All of my favorite records from this year have been light hearted romps, the "Scarlet Pimpernel's" of indie music. Napoleon, Giorgio Tuma, Discovery, JJ, it's all a delight. Are there any serious records worth your time? I can't remember. Well there is Cortney Tidwell, she's amazing, and doughty and brilliant. But even that record has boldness more than pomp. Next Discovery track I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend. As this is Vampire Weekend related it will be despised by a fair percentage of the hipster population, though clearly Vampire Weekend are descended of their demographic, they just haven't acquired the guilt that accompanies one's ascension in the ranks of the privileged caste when you are slowly weaning yourself from the financial teats. This is really very simple, the chorus is infectiously stupid, very BMX Bandits obvious, and the chorus' jolly and easy to ridicule. The songs are so short, already on to So Insane. Will this inform the next Vamopire Weekend record? I think the dharma leaguer writes all of the songs for Vampire Weekend, he's surely got loads of tracks about cul-de-sacs and dactyls and the Columbia Used Book Store in his repertoire, enough to keep the spice this might add to the mix from frothing to attention. This is a mediocre track but in the context of the mediocre ambitions of the album it fits in nicely. Does this record have ambition? It seems designed to fly low beneath the radar. The other guy is in some other band that I've never heard of, no great feat there, and apparently this is closer in feel to that unknown entity than it is to Vampire Weekend and their African rhythms. Swing Tree, more of the same, it is all so delightfully pleasant. I am not a dance sophisticate, I don't take E nor do I own any ironic tee shirts, furry animal pants or glow stick jewelry so I don't know what I am talking about but if I was having junior high school kids over for a swinging dance party I would not feel ashamed playing this record. I might banish God Help the Girl from the house but not this. Hipsters, they come in different flavors. The precious and fey are sometimes difficult to eradicate, the "playing as paupers" wouldn't come to my party anyhow. I've never had a party. Swing Tree of course could refer to lynching and then we come back to Brainwashed, will they run an expose on the racist undertones? Probably. Brainwashed is at the vanguard of the movement against the RIAA you know, I imagine the Pirate Bay will be asking them to file an Amicus Curiae in sympathy sometime soon. Won't they? Girly boy vocals, very effete, lady boys. Now we've gone underwater but the beat keeps on going. Ezra Vampire is singing, it is hard to distinguish him from the other guy. Actually. It's a fine song. I like it. Were the Lodger named after The Lodger? It isn't much of a movie to be honest. My favorite scene was when the police inspector was trying to woo Merle Oberon by showing her the ghoulish assemblage of implements used in London's most gruesome crimes. I'd like to have that tea cup actually. A Jackson 5 cover now, how timely. I Want You Back. Of course it isn't a patch on the original but it's likable enough. All of the soul and emotion of the original has been leeched until the vinyl version is as bland and colorless as Michael Jackson's complexion. Part of this might be laziness, surely it is easier to fall back on the indie rock standby of ironic covers of mega pop hits than to write an interesting original. They are probably bearded by this stage of the record. Next track. The second to last track, It's Not My Fault(It's My Fault). Perhaps on the second album they will convince Maxwell to take lead vocals and they can cover There Goes A Tenner instead of the Jackson 5. They could have a cover photo with them shirtless, tips frosted, shoelaces untied. It will be marvelous. I don't mind that this song really doesn't go anywhere at all. It's just a loop of meaninglessness made to sound sacchariney. It's a thousand light years beyond Seeland though. have you heard the Seeland record? It is one of the worst records of all time. I am sure Brainwashed will love it because it is a side project of more respectable bands than Vampire Weekend and you are able to write ill thought out analogies between Seeland and your own life as a dissident in Amerikkka! Or you could compare it to one of my least favorite OMD songs ever. But Broadcast make brilliant record because the interesting people are still in the band, not because one of them left to join Seeland. Last song, Slang Tang, I rather like this, bubbling brook of twinkles and vagueness all tinder and suppression, all at once, it never flowers into a romp, it's a librarian's disco manual. Over.

The Love Is All debut album is sooo good. Why has everything since been rubbish? New single is a disaster. Is it just because she once listed Al Gore as a hero? Has my opinion changed? I am not that shallow. Why do America's useful idiots receive such adulation from abroad? Al Gore couldn't catch a cold here. The big global warming tax that won't do anything besides line the coffers of the treasury and impede economic growth has just passed the house(good grief) and Al's nowhere to be seen. Summer has not yet arrived here. It's Ireland green all over. When do we get global warming?

Update: Perhaps Life Without Buildings were right to become poets and layabouts after just one record.

Watched Camera Obscura on some late night talk show. Hmmm...indiepop bands are boring. If I had not ever heard them before that performance I would not have been moved to lament that fact. I still think the album is really rather good. They should just be shut-ins, the same as I am. Some Icelandic radio station had a poll of best Icelandic albums ever and no Mum! Ha. I still mean to finish a poorly reasoned and poorly structured entry on them sometime. Yesterday was bike to work day here and I was forced to slalom my way through dozens of winded obstructions yesterday and then today the bike path was empty. Were they all in it for the free bottles of gatorade?

Mum Sing Along to Songs You Don't KNow. A leak. Evil evil leaks abound. This is the first listen. Starts off with tinkles, twinkles, organic twiddlings on obscurities. Lovely. I do love Mum so much. This is starting off so grandly. A singer-songwriter thing about fish and seashells and other things absurd and not quite as interesting as they imagine but it is child like and innocent and dreamy and escapist and proud of not being from around here. Mum are alien to the world I live in. A world with people with geometric hairstyles they haven't altered in decades, where novelty is looked upon with skepticism not because of age but due to an unswerving conservatism of taste, you can't go wrong with being boring. It is why Mum would alienate all of my co-workers. I love this song as an opening song, it's almost a country song. Icelandic country. I wonder if this album was made before their country went into receivership? Are there political songs here? It sounds like they've been loving themselves some Seabear in the off season. Truly, we should all be loving us some Seabear and Sin Fang Bous, really. The songs are short. They were mainly short on the last album as well. They've become this loose hippy collective now, more Gorky's than Autechre. Will they ever go back to the electronic foundation? Maybe on the next one. Second song now. Sing Along and it is another slowie. More of the organic meanderings, the collective vocalisations, or is it but two of them? A male and a female, percussion muffling the ambience, guitars, it is almost conventional sounding. It sounds a symphony of sounds, noises, twitters of the heart, flashes of the mind, some primitivisms splashed around in a rock polisher. I love it. None of their albums have been repeats of the previous records. I guess the 2nd and 3rd were not so different but even then the third evidenced a move towards song based music. I've recently discovered the icelandic version of Finally We Are No One and I enjoy it more than the English version perhaps because it is that her helium pitched vocals are an evolutionary adaptation to rendering the icelandic language musically? I don't know. It's more whispers than coos in the native tongue. This was a bit Efterklang but they wisely left off the viking choirs. Although the press release I've just glossed over has ominous mentions of arrangements for choirs within. Oh dear. What is the appeal of a choir in pop music? These are tiny songs. They don't need big big ugly choirs to muddy the waters. The outro now, almost a capella, voice and scrapes, glass harmoniums or rivers of lead. Third song, it is jaunty, jug band-esque, country-ish, pretty voices-ful. It's a monument to progress circa 1923. When the great global warming occurs it will be Reykjavik that will cease to exist, Mum are doomed, and soon. It's average elevation is but 16m. Some silly hearts claim the ocean will rise 100m by the end of this century and most probably this will occur overnight, one fateful night when the moon rages and the sun sleeps. Mum will be in their plush carpeted studio one day recording another delicate record of fairy mushroom folk and suddenly when they step outside their front door they shall find the middle of the Atlantic. It will be tragic. All of their geothermal goodness will not be of any benefit when the warming comes. Obama has tried to stop it with his ridiculous cap and trade program but they've given away most of the emissions permits only to push off into the future the cuts. But if you don't think this will affect the average American by pushing unproven alternative energy sources then you are mistaken. Next track, number four, it's not jug band esque, it is baroque, folk, spare and fragile, pretty female voices and a countdown memorial beat. A metaphor for the impending doom faced by humanity in the face of the scourge of CO2? Possibly. Xylophones are terrifying. The problem with windmills is that it isn't always windy. Unless you plan on building redundancy into the system(this is why windmill power is so expensive) then you can't guarantee a steady source of electricity. So imagine you want to listen to the fabulous new Mum album and you plug in your hi-fi and play your vintage vinyl copy on your turntable from 1973 with its inefficient vacuum tubes and capacitors and you open the window to find a dearth of gentle breezes coming over the hill well unless you can call Mum up on your hand crank two way radio and ask them for an impromptu performance in your living room you are out of luck. It's a bit like using natural gas to make ethanol to power motor cars. Why not just use natural gas? I don't know. The natural gas lobby is not as powerful as big corn. Next song. Pounding on five gallon buckets, pounding on glass carafes, strings and distant voices. Are these the choral arrangements? I can live with these choral arrangements. It's an odd song. It's not such a great song. The words are an impediment, luckily they aren't proud of their poetry, I don't have a handwritten copy of the poetry and the voices are lounging at the back of the mix. This isn't so bad. Is this Balearic? What is Balearic exactly? How come everything that is praised on I Love Music is usually absolutely horrid? There is always a consensus among the tastemakers there and normally the consensus resolves only rubbish more clearly. Strange things. Mum are barely alive in the collective consciousness on I Love Music. Who knows why? The Smell of Today is Sweet Like Breastmilk in the Wind. Nice. This week we had infomercials on impartial media for Government funded healthcare. Globovision is our last hope. How exactly expanding government healthcare from covering only the elderly and infirm to covering everyone is meant to make healthcare less expensive is a mystery. It all boils down to the fact that the increase in Medicare spending has been less than the increase in private insurance expenditures since the mid-90s. But the government doesn't act according to market forces and in a strange reverse private care is subsidising government care for when the government decide to reduce payments to providers that reduction is inevitably retrieved from privately funded patient care. Who will reimburse the system's shortfalls when there is not an alternative to government care? I don't know. My aunt was 68, she developed lymph node cancer, she lived in Canada, they sent her home from the hospital to die, without any treatment whatsoever. Why? Because government care is run by statistics, statistics indicate that treatment for cancer for older patients is rarely effective. Care was denied. This is how costs are reduced. It is defensible in a strictly Benthamite social justice analysis, the old contribute less to overall GDP and consume more medical resources so it makes more sense to subsidise the care of working age populations but it's dreadful to think about if you are my Aunt. But whatever, it will be free healthcare and let's not worry about the distorting effect on demand when you eliminate the obstacle of price. Whatever, again. Next song, Hullabullabalu, with strange accents and it's a warped signature of loveliness and contemplation. It feels soothing and disorienting at once. Are they now a jam band? Do they sit in a room and start chanting meaninglessness and then take some more drugs and inhale the breastmilk on the wind and come up with these things? It is very Incredible String Band-esque. I am all about things being -esque this morning. I am on a low this Sunday morning. Summer is missing. I don't mind. I'd prefer the mercury staying beneath 90 degrees for all eternity. My optimum temperature is about 66 degrees. It could be 66 degrees 24/7, 365 and I would be exceedingly happy. But Al Gore says it will soon be 1000 degrees all of the time. Frightening times. Rich world problems are a laugh. This song is very pretty. Do little boys sit beneath windows outside of Mum practice spaces and have sketchpads where they wrestle with the profundities of songs with titles such as Blow Your Nose with trumpets that sound like trouser zippers, do they paint Chagall horses of freedom and other messages of Jewish folklore and think perhaps the lost tribe of Israel found root in all of the mountains of Iceland and in the depths Jokulsalron? In the ears of gnomes that hold up the construction of buildings while experts are called in to maintain a balance between the gnomic ecosystem and economic prosperity in Iceland. Who knows. That was spare, twinkles, strings and voices. Nice. I love Mum. I should apologize to them for my inexpert analysis of the issues that are leading the USA over a precipice. Now more nonsense. This is the still the first time I am listening to the album. I refrained from listening all week long. Such discipline. I listened to Napoleon instead and The Ballet. The Ballet are like a gay Baskervilles. Are the Baskervilles gay? I don't know. Could be. Am I? Could be. I am sexually inert. Another nonsense title. Mum are no longer an electronic band. Why not? They haven't been since Finally We Are No One. Summer Make Good was a goth record and now they make cookies filled with fluffy pop songs. There are dozens of them in the band, they are all equally important, egalitarianism is the enemy of pop bands. They have people in to play thumb piano and mouth organ and these are surely virtuosos of their craft. Michael Jackson could have been a Mum fan. I was feeling melancholic over Michael Jackson's death this week. It is hard to think of anyone who could have that sort of global impact these days. Perhaps it is because when people looked at Michael Jackson they knew they were spying in on a virtuoso? You could never dream to dance like Michael Jackson, you couldn't sing like him, you could never be more of an eccentric oddball than he was without it seeming like a pose to garner attention. He seemed genuinely disturbed. Imagine anyone looking at Ben Gibbard and thinking "God I could never be that whiny and uninteresting!". It doesn't happen. We are surrounded by mediocrity from the President to film to music to journalism to athletics (where have you gone Purvis Short?). It is a depressing time. There is an essay on ALdaily discussing the demise of beauty as an aspired to ideal. It is a lament for an age where people strive towards degeneracy and vapidness. Asher Roth is the nadir? Probably not. This sounds sissy, his voice is a bit Gibbardly. Maybe Mum are huge fans of the colossus of mediocrity Ben Gibbard. Strings and twinkles, it is an effective formula. When does this album offcially see the light of day? This has the feel of a winter record, a recession record, a record to wallow in the miseries of capitalism's failure in. Oh Karl Marx your day has come! Demography has killed the bourgeoisie. Pretty things. I have a cell phone now. My first ever. Did you want to call me? I could post my number on here. I haven't received a single call this week. This is why I don't need a cell phone. I am a horrible person that no one wishes to be in contact with. Look at how I have disparaged Mum's achievement with all of my deranged neoliberal expatiations on health care and the environment. I am a dreadful dreadful prince of Christmas. Last song. Piano and soft voices. Space. The air is free in Iceland, it is all we have left, we are all Icelanders here, our homes will be owned by banks from Latvia and Javier Solona and the USA is in the final of an international Futbol contest that no one seems to care about. The end is near. Listen to Mum, it will enhance your sadness and being sad means being alive.

When will you admit that the Vivian Girls are a disaster? Moped Girls deserves nothing.

I am going to become one of those awful sorts who makes posts only about all of the posts he didn't make. Ugh!

Just a handful of posts in May, but one in June, what is going on? Nothing. I got an awful haircut today. I tried to listen to Je Suis Animal but you know they're godawful. Really. Posts on Resplandor and God Hep the Girl sometime this century. I walked past newly planted Marshall Seedless Ash trees. I was under the impression that new Ash trees on the boulevard were verboten but apparently I was wrong or I could turn them in for a reward? Save the urban monoculture from the collective lack of imagination. Why not more Kentucky Coffee trees? Green silhouetted on green as far as the eye can see. Funnel clouds every afternoon. Instability is alive and dreaming.

God Help the Girl God Help the Girl. This is not a Belle & Sebastian album. Nope. Ignore those Belle & Sebastian songs that are playing just now. Ignore those familiar photos on the sleeve(note I haven't actually seen these familiar photographs). Ignore those Belle & Sebastian lyrics. No, listen, this is nothing at all like a Belle & Sebastian record! Not really. But that's the story we're meant to digest. First track is a Belle & Sebastian track. Act of the Apostle, well most of Act of the Apostle(reprise) but you see there is an attractive young woman is singing. Not Isobel mind. Isobel doesn't really sing anyhow, so then you already knew this. It's a pretty good opening track. Second song, the title track, I am not convinced that she's such a marvelous voice. I'm also not entirely convinced that this record would not have sounded even lovelier had Stuart Murdoch decided to sing all of the songs. It is his "solo" record after all. It is not a Belle & Sebastian record, no, even though he has written all of the songs. Stuart Murdoch has become a very good singer, he's learned to assume the role of the character and has added some flexibility and soul. This girl is a bit monochromatic. At times the beauty of the arrangements and the pretty string sections make up for this deficiency and sometimes, not really. Here on the title track it sounds a bit like someone dispassionately reciting a grocery list. I don't mean to be mean. Although I am. Always. It's a pretty good song but it might have sounded about the same had Isobel been the singer instead. That's not high praise. Next track. A Stuart track. All strings and piano. It sounds like Divine Comedy circa-Liberation or Promenade which serves as foreshadowing since Neil Divine Comedy appears later on this album. He sings beautifully. He seems engaged. He wrote it. He's not doing Karaoke. I am ugly. I really do enjoy this album. Am I anti-Female? Possibly. But then I don't really interact with females in a male way so I don't think that is it. I am gender neutral. Quiet, tender moments, the female comes in, hmmm...I think I prefer male vocalists overall. Unless the gal is gonna be dramatic and off kilter. I am not much for the crystalline genericist. Very nice, that one. I think the next track was actually the execrable 'jazz' interlude, I've deleted it. Instead it is Hiding Neath My Umbrella. An umbrella would have been a good investment in 2009. It is not normally so, not in Denver, Colorado. Driving along the interstate south towards Castle Rock and the scrub oak is in bloom and it still looks hideous and scabrous but it is genteel silhouettes along emerald hillsides. We're in the semi-arid region, we are surround by opportunists. We are surrounded by hideous Ash trees and only slightly less hideous Lindens and dying Cottonwoods and chlorotic Maples but this year spring has truly sprung and it is marvelous to be alive in this unfamiliar cauldron of life and love. The Magpies are rejoicing. That was a duet, a nice one, she was better on it, she might be better on call and response songs but sadly those are not in the majority. Now a slow basic track. This might serve to further the libretto. I am not paying attention to what the words mean just now. It's a duet with another girl. I don't think I'd like a peak into the world of Stuart Murdoch. Not one where the word 'hipster' is used and not with cringes or shrugs. Where every photograph is a funeral, the life pressed from it when it is pressed into the flicker photo on a Macintosh. Stuart is singing now. This is pretty good. It mgiht serve some alternate purpose. Does it seem like a movie that would be worth seeing seeing as how this is the soundtrack? Not really, no. Next one might not actually be mistaken for a Belle & Sebastian song. It could possibly be mistaken for a Last Shadow Puppets song though. They drank from the same inspiration fount for the strings. It would have been a triumph if all of the songs diverged from the accepted pedagogy as this one has but you know you are who you are. Vocals again are the letdown for when it picks up in intensity it's a turn a bit flubby. Her stilted voice makes the words seem more clumsy than they might have in the gentle rolling lilt of Stuart Murdoch. Chorus is not as Dusty as they hoped for. But I like it. We're all for underachievers being as we belong to all of the same clubs. Not like Brian Deese. He's 31 and he's running General Motors. What is with this toxic addiction to youth in democratic administrations? Obama's speechwriter is 27. I am sure there are loads of staffers under 30 in the White House. The young are silly. They are fools for novelty. Beware. Also, beware the half beard of Mr Deese. It is a post rocker's beard, too lazy either to shave it completely or to see it through to something substantial. it looks like a beard that a Pitchfork reader might sport. Imagine Brian Deese as a lad reading Brent Dicrescenzo's review of Kid A accepting the wizard's cap before filling his Ritalin prescription. We are doomed. The hipster song is playing, it's very good,Neil Hannon is a good singer. It sounds like a Divine Comedy song, mostly down to his voice, and the strings and the fact that it sounds like how a Divine Comedy song might sound. Does 'hipster' have a shelf life in 2009? Somewhere in the mix we escaped the new faux soul version of Funny Little Frog. Thanks be to delete buttons. It's really awful. I know the person who sang it is probably some unknown from Secaucus or Urbana but whatever, it's a chore to listen to and so we've erased it from existence. Ha. Now the single. Come Monday Night. This, has a dreadful video. The video is so Belle & Sebastian precious. Is it because the people who work with Belle & Sebastian expect that they will be wet, fey and twee that most of what is their public presentation is wet, fey and twee or do they decide to make this their public face in band meetings that Brian Deese's beard sits in on? I'd go for the Flannery O'connor grotesque version of life instead. Counter your intuitive inner pansy by presenting things darkly and with humor instead of devoted earnestness. I don't know what I am talking about. I've been listening to the Giorgio Tuma record all day long. It's a magnificent thing. You should buy it and then buy God Help the Girl because Stuart Murdoch probably doesn't need the money. Some pretty and incidental instrumental has passed. Is this the same singer? I don't think so, there's some depth here that is missing from the other songs and that fragile rasp. It is nearly a cappella, naked, tender, quite nice. I sit next to someone I could write songs like this for, only romantic, but I don't speak. Do Belle & Sebastian do romantic? Not really. They inspired this silly overly romanticized following where people have dreams of arms of sex and send in photographs of themselves on toilets and have get togethers with others of like mind. Their fans did more harm to their public image than the band ever did, especially back when they were shy and retiring sorts hectored in their obscurity by Steven Wells. This one has pepped up. I think that this is not the main singer. It's still a bit colorless. It's a lovely song. Imagine if Stuart had sung it. Here it might be true that the demos are better. The sinister list was filled with those snobs who had Lazy Line Painter Jane demos and they would blag about how amazing it was without Monica Queen. But then Monica Queen is a goddess and Ed Whomever isn't. I could be disparaging the wrong person but I believe I remember it being him. I could be wrong. He could be marvelous. He's not Monica Queen. Will Monica Queen release a new record someday? Have you heard the last? Imagine Monica singing these songs, oh just dream. Now back to main singer, more hesitancy. I may be imagining things have gone awry when really it's bloody brilliant. I just think these songs could be songs that swing and flow and with the swinging a bit of root development could be foresworn and great things turned into everyday occurrences but uh no. It's a lovely song. But remember it isn't a Belle & Sebastian song. Although it is, really. It's like the new Haruki Marukami novel not being Haruki Marukami, no no it's the new Max Brod novel. Honest. A sequel to Kingdom of Heaven, Kafka's dendrocytes in the binders glue and Eva Green is nowhere to be seen. Eva Green could be a Tie Stereo werewolf, who could say she wasn't. It is all very top secret. Dion from Godzuki has a blog and it is mostly less readable than this website but he has a lot of time for werewolves and I can appreciate that. Does he play Marumari when he DJ's ah but then those were actual wolves weren't they. He hasn't had much comment on Dave Bing as new Mayor of Detroit or this the last song. A bunch of the girls sing on this one now. They should have gone with the multiple vocalist format on all of the tracks, gone old school His Name is ALive back in the day, before the electric giraffe before the electric bear. Actually it's a bit like a Ladybug Transistor record isn't it? Belle & Sebastian covering Ladybug Transistor. Now he's on about punk rock, does Stuart Murdoch really live in this post idealization world? Where there are hipster sightings, where people hang out to write songs together, where people drink not to get drunk but still to excess and they romanticize punk rock but only that from the likes of Vic Goddard and the Slits? Are we overjoyed at the prospect of a new Slits album? No. I am trying to remember who this sounds like? Tompaulin? Possibly. Wouldn't that be a circle squared. Well then, it's nice enough for a Sunday afternoon someday. Give it to your mother next Mother's Day.

I have decided to stop typing "preposterous". Also, I can't spell sycophantic. Should there not be an 'h' after the c? There should be, but no. Keith Canisius record is imitation Manual but I really like it anyhow.