Saturday, May 28, 2011

Gold-Bears Are You Falling In Love?. I am not. Are you? But this is not portentous and self-indulgent and droll. Scroll down for that. This the Boyracer record you have waited all of your life for. Better even than To Get A Grip You Better Loosen Your Grip or whatever that one was called. That was pretty ok, yes, but this is better. Stewart from Boyracer played on their first single. But the more important historical information is that Gold-Bears guy was once in Plastic Mastery and I loved Plastic Mastery. So this entire entry may mean nothing at all to you because you hated Plastic Mastery. Well then, you are mistaken, which only means that while I could still be wrong there is no denying that Plastic Mastery were thrilling. PM were emo, sure, but they had this filled near to the point of bursting emotional detonator if emotions had detonators thing about them that i really enjoyed. Maybe you are a Captured Tracks kind of person? That's alright. They are reissuing Nick Nicely I hear. He's brilliant. He'll then feel rather uncomfortable on the label that celebrates all things mediocre. First song is over, it was about falling in love in a record store. Right? Very early 2000s. Who goes to record stores any more? I was nearby Wax Trax on this past Thursday and normally would have felt an uncontrollable force dragging me as if by gravitation towards their racks but not this Thursday. I had wonderful french food and met a wonderful person across the table from wonderful french food. And then I went home and listened to Giorgio Tuma. But this entry is not about Giorgio Tuma, he lives further down the page in the nicer zip code. Second track is over, faster and buzzier than the first one, and now the third one is faster and buzzier then the second one. Part of the thrill is how they sequence the record so that each song segues into the next without a gap, especially when the energy level, already high, jumps to the next state on the next track or when the speakers go from room shattering to tender and meekly describing a tender and meek melody. This one might be an intermezzo, though not labelled as such, not much happens but then it moves into a more interesting quieter thing that is very very very Boyracer. Have I mentioned Boyracer? Boyracer were mostly terrible, we love them, yes, but they were mostly terirble. When you release 75 songs a year for a few years you need to write songs very quickly. Does Giorgio Tuma write songs quickly? Unlikely. Boyracer were great though. I know, I just said they were terrible, but terrible isn't always bad. Gold-Bears are really great though and I don't need to attempt to juxtapose a positive connotation on that. Hard to make out the words. It is not poetry but his performance often makes the words more earnest and poignant. I could suppose that the appeal I find in Plastic Mastery/Gold-Bears man is his earnestness. When I was eating French food I meant to discuss earnestness, but I did not. This could have been my downfall. But earnestness is not holding sway when defining the zeitgeist. Artifice, irony, these are the things that matter. Back to pace now, spindly guitar lines above the buzz, the drums recorded in the garage of the neighbor down the street recorded by two cans tied together with kite string. I can imagine them getting into a suburban garage and banging out this record in a weekend. It doesn't sound ramshackle or shambolic or amateurish but it is exciting and possesses a vitality of youthfulness. How old is Plastic Master/Gold-Bears guy? I don't know. He looks angsty. Next track, the ubiquitous buzz in the background, the angellic guitar on top, his voice distorted by technology and desperation. Marvelous. It is a fast record, it is very short. It is for driving. When you are driving to Chicago across Iowa through the dead of night and the person sitting next to you wants to listen to the Legendary Pink Dots and you resist and you decide on a compromise well this is your record to build that compromise from. It's guaranteed to appeal to everyone. Well, no. But it is great, I say so, you are wrong if you disagree. Edward Kaspell, is that how it is done???, would not be a fan. When he is driving through Iowa he may feel more in mind of Wagner or Shania Twain. I have never driven across Iowa with a pop star. Kansas yes. Another moment now when they ramp up the energy. It's about infectious energy and the music causing me to type much faster then I normally would. The Giorgio Tuma record slowed all of my senses,yet made them sharper and more keenly focused to detect the precise appurtenances of live in a snow globe but with this record the world is a rush and a blur and you only catch the vague outlines of excitement and beauty but the essence drills deep through your cranium. Sometimes you need that. Giorgio Tuma may have made the most beautiful record ever, at least for this week, but you can't always listen to Giorgio Tuma. Sometimes you need indiepop made well to remind you that you are only in your 30s, the world hasn't forgotten you that you have just forgotten the world and you still have time to realize your dream of sitting next to Robert Osbourne announcing Jean Seberg in Joan of Arc. I could hardly do worse than Alec Baldwin what with his Wikipedia quoting praise of Black Panther-ship in front of Robert before The Mouse That Roared. Robert must have been so absolutely embarrassed. But then I learned everything I need to know about Jean Seberg from Marine Research song. I wrote that in a letter, earlier this week, but I mentioned that it was a Heavenly song and have been unable to live with that mistake all week. This track is mainly chiming guitar and violin and buzziness. No drums. This isn't a great deal removed from Plastic Mastery. It could have been a Plastic Mastery record but then is a Plastic Mastery record without Larry Bonk even the remotest of possibilities. There again with the swell into the excitement of youth. How do some people embody this zest and others can't. I've never displayed it. Not in public, not off of the page. Was Jean Seberg about anything but the haircut? Haircuts are important. I have never settled on a haircut actually. It is a normal process of growing old you pick a style and maintain it and people walk up to you and feel comforted by your consistent coiffure but mine goes from unkempt state to unkempt state without any real sense of attachment. My brother once sported Morrissey hair. He made a fair go of it. He wore it to Cathy Dennis concerts and to the Kill Uncle tour. The Kill Uncle tour was the saddest day of my life until then. I've had a few more desperate since but was it Asian Rut or Phranc or was it Meadowbrook Theater? Morrissey in the sunshine, next to the mall, hmm...a mid tempo Gold-Bears number now. More people will feel the words more deeply than I do. I bet they are angst-ridden and passionate, he could not possibly be otherwise, and will carry some people through trauma and loneliness of spirit the same as Morrissey did for me. Where is the Morrissey for kids of today? Feel sad for the kids of today. They don't eat meat and they can't spell and they can't bear the thought of being alone. X-mas Song is just wrapping up. It is almost X-mas for me. I don't like X-mas anymore. I don't believe in X-mas anymore. Last track, starts off with thundering bass drum, gentle plucks on a guitar, his voice recorded down a phone line. This is the final wrap up, the long note in your yearbook at the end of the starts off slow and he incorporates his favorite phrase near the beginning alongside the shoegazey guitars 'yeah tonight'. Is it his trademark? Who are the other Gold-Bears? Unknown. They could be bearish on Gold, is that wise, gold closed at 1537 this week, but there is the possible liability for sickening all of their miners apparently. I worked for a gold mining company. It was the ideal job for a loner but even I could not bear it. Am I truly a loner? Probably by default more than definition. Big finish, he's come in from the other room with his squealing guitar and the drums rocking and it's awesome and awesomer.