Well Worth the Price of the Static

Man, can this guy move! I know this isn't typical fare her at the Static but I was so impressed with this man's moves, I just had to post it.

Worst Albums of the Year (so to speak)

Is it unfair to hold a band to the standards of its previous successes or failures? Certain arguments can be made either way. On the one hand, artists should be expected to fail, otherwise none would take any risks. And those who don't take risks could hardly be called artists, anyway. However, when talented people do fail, it's magnified under the light of their former brilliance.

The two most disappointing albums of the year share at least two things in common. They have the finest, most creative packaging on any album you'll see all year. One comes with a decoder to reveal a seemingly endless array of gypsy-like art work; the other comes in a holographic box inside which are two flip books and a transparent plastic CD sleeve that looks like an abstract film frame. The packaging alone is almost worth the price of the CDs. But before you open your wallets, the second thing they have in common is that each artists' previous album was brilliant by most accounts whereas their follow up efforts are considerably less than, to say the least. The first of these two albums, Bright Eyes's Cassadaga showcases an artist on autopilot, building on a formula he's been developing for a few years, while eschewing the personal poignancy that made his previous album, I'm Wide Awake It's Morning so stunning. The second album is Arcade Fire's sophomore effort, Neon Bible, on which the band tries to broaden their sound and scope to disastrous results.

Cassadaga really wouldn't be so bad were it not for I'm Wide Awake. There are some decent songs on this album, particularly "Make a Plan to Love Me" and "Lime Tree," but these songs are aberrations on an album of condescending bumper sticker activism from his high perch as a moral authority. The reason these two songs succeed is the same reason nearly every song on I'm Wide Awake was so powerful. They are introspective, subtle songs about love, loss, and loneliness. The orchestration on each remains subdued enough not to overshadow the lyrics, while managing to buttress and shape Oberst's sentiments into stirring dramatic ballads.

Yet, Conor Oberst, the singer/songwriter of Bright Eyes, spends most of the album attacking groups, ideas, governments, wars, etc. And it isn't that I don't agree with most of his sentiments, but with out any introspection, he becomes a mouthpiece and a finger wagger. Oberst's most powerful weapon has always been the devastating glare he would cast on himself. I'm Wide Awake was rife with stories about love and loss, failures as a man, and confusion as an American. He still managed to protest against the war but he did it subtly, via allegory, weaving stories and imagery over traditional country-folk orchestration that broke your heart without wasting a breath on a soap box, preaching. Not a single song on Cassadaga carries the same weight or pathos that "Poison Oak," "We are Nowhere and it's Now," or "Land Locked Blues." Nor is there any song as accessible or sweet as "First Day of My Life."

On Cassadaga, Oberst continues to swim in the country waters, but he's lost all his soul. Too many songs are orchestrated like a hootenanny where you can never have enough instruments. It is without a doubt, the most heavily produced Bright Eyes album, but that only seems to strip it of its sincerity. There's really very little on this album that feels honest or personal and it kind of feels like Oberst was preoccupied during the creation of these songs. A girl, perhaps? He makes no effort to cloak his message. When he wants to attack religion, for instance, he doesn't skirt the issue with metaphor, he rants of "Satan...the whore of babylon," and says things like, " The Bible's blind, the Torah's deaf, the Qu'ran's mute." On I'm Wide Awake, a similar sentiment likely would have been tucked away in a description of a young man clutching his bible while stealing a car and driving all the way to nowhere. Not that that happened, but my point is, when an artist insists on hitting the nail on the head, I feel like he or she's pounding that nail through my skull.

Ultimately, this album feels insincere and that's a horrible thing for someone who made I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning which came off as the pinnacle of sincerity because he attacked himself before he ever looked toward anyone else.

As for Neon Bible, there's only one word to describe this album: irritating. It is absolutely, unequivocally average. It has two great tracks, "Ocean of Noise" and "No Cars Go," two absolutely awful tracks, "Keep the Car Running" and "Neon Bible," and seven tracks that reside somewhere between awful and good. Combine this with the absolute punch drunk infatuation the critics have with Arcade Fire to the point that they're high off the hype and utterly unable to see think objectively, and this album becomes an irritating thorn. It doesn't even draw blood, it just sticks there every time someone looks at me aghast to exclaim, "How can you not like the new Arcade Fire?" as though it were a requirement of all indie music fans. But I sincerely doubt that two weeks after writing such glowing praise (Pitchfork I'm looking at you) the critics were still listening to this trite drivel called Neon Bible.

After Funeral there was a small but significant backlash in certain circles to Arcade Fire's meteoric popularity. Now, if you don't like the music, that's legitimate, but to base your opinions on the opinions of other people, even if it's to counter those opinions, is to be a pod person without a self. Therefore, I sincerely believe the backlash against Funeral was unwarranted on the whole. So many people flocked to that album because it was legitimately quality from start to finish and an album like that is a rarity. When they come along, you know it, because they bridge all tastes and genres. I would put it alongside Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and An Airplane Over the Sea in regards to albums that seem to have no ceiling and are able to appeal to nearly everybody who listens to it. Unfortunately, they were christened after that album (and aided by their subsequent raucous tour) as the Messiahs of independent rock, which stipulates somewhere that "Arcade Fire can do no wrong." And thus, they took a shit on record and everyone called it gold. (OK. That was an overstatement).

So what happened? Well, you could argue sophomore slump and you'd be pretty spot on. Taking after Mr. Oberst, they extended their songs' scope, seeking meaning in religion, government, socio-economic disparity, war, love, loss, disappointment, etc. They also tried to expand musically, tempering their "anthems" for which they became known, to build restrained, heavily orchestrated songs that rarely if ever explode into the cathartic release of Funeral. Occasionally the lyrics are a bit on the nose, but I don't really have a problem with them, because I spend too much time cringing at the god-awful melodies. As I mentioned before, "Keep the Car Running" and "Neon Bible" are just devastating coming from a band and a song writer that have proven themselves as quality song writers. The melodies in each of these songs sounds like something written for a children's show on PBS, with a repetitive descending structure that nearly caused me to gouge my inner ear with a toothpick.

Almost equally annoying are the paired tracks, "(Antichrist Television Blues)" and "Windowsill," if only for their utter lack of lyrical creativity and the overbearingly repetitive structure of their refrains. "(Antichrist Television Blues)" begins with "I don't want to work in a building down town, no I don't want to work in a building down town..." and repeat. This is immediately followed by "Windowsill" which begins "I don't want to hear the noises on TV, I don't want the salesman coming after me, I don't want to live in my father's house no more..." and he proceeds to recount all the things he doesn't want to do. You see my problem here?

On the other hand, "Ocean of Noise" is a stunning track holds up with the best written by Arcade Fire. It opens in a torrential thunderstorm, out of which grows the rhythm section and piano as though brought in on the tempestuous winds. The song builds into a beautiful conclusion replete with steel drums, jazzy percussion, an elegant horn section, and Win Butler's soaring vocals. "No Cars Go," is the one track on the album that feels like it could have existed on Funeral. It's anthemic machine gun percussion, sweeping strings, and communal singing (not to mention shouts of elation) give the track an energy and impetuous drive otherwise completely absent on the rest of the album. The song is a thrill ride with soft contemplative moments bookended by towering instrumental breaks that take off like a rocket for the heavens.

In all honesty, Neon Bible isn't as horrible as I make it sound. It's actually just completely average. But that isn't good enough and artists shouldn't get free passes because of their previous successes. All in all, Arcade Fire made a concerted effort to expand their sound and their song writing. Kudos for that, at least. An artist without balls is no artist. (Figurative balls, of course.) Fortunately for them, critics don't possess their same testicular fortitude. Neon Bible really ought to be regarded as a failure. Still, the band remains intriguing enough, and occasionally thrilling enough, that I am all too anxious for their hopefully much improved third album. May it be their best, yet.

So is it fair to hold an artist up to the standards of their previous successes or failures? It may not be fair, but its impossible to do otherwise. Oddly enough, the one band that seems incapable of the occasional failure, Radiohead, was nearly torn apart after the constant accolades bestowed upon OK Computer, the minions of critics declaring it an inarguable, inimitable masterpiece. It's that word - inimitable that's so damning. How do you follow up something that's inimitable? Thom Yorke knew they couldn't remake OK Computer. Not if they wanted to remain relevant, so they scrapped the guitar rock formula in favor of new age IDM and Industrial soundscapes to create a follow-up masterpiece. This is ultimately unfair. We can't all be Radiohead.

The irony, I suppose, is that Cassadaga was probably unfairly underrated because it didn't hold up to I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning, while Neon Bible was overrated because everyone was so in love with Funeral. Now that's unfair. Still, both albums are utter disappointments and that's why they are, so far, my least favorite albums of the year. I expected more.

Down Boy Video

Remember when the Yeah Yeah Yeahs got so much hype for so many years before ever releasing their first LP? This is why. Before anyone knew who they were, this was the kind of show they put on all over New York. I would have been smitten, too. I am.



I guess dreams do come true.

Requiem for the Trailer Voice

I don't know if you've noticed it. I haven't heard anybody talk about it. Yet something very wonderful has happened at the movies. It started in the mid 90s by my best estimation. Now, in 2007, the deep overbearing "trailer voice" is all but dead. He rests somewhere between Crystal Clear Pepsi and Urkle. No longer will you go to the movies to hear the rumbling proclamation: "IN A WORLD...TORN BY INCOMPETENCE...THERE IS ONLY ONE MAN TO GET...THINGS...DONE" Or something like that. Now trailers use the art of montage (what a concept), coupled with manipulative music, actual scenes from the movie, and, this is my favorite part, THE WRITTEN WORD to convey the story. After decades of the exact same trailer format, the "trailer voice" has become iconic. A cliché. Everyone has that annoying ass friend who insists on narrating your mundane activities in the "trailer voice."

HE IS A PLAGUE ON SOCIETY AND MUST BE DEALT WITH!

Sorry. I lost my head. Thankfully, the trailer gods have taken up the cause and done away with the voice. Instead, trailers have become akin to short films, drawing the audience in the same way a dramatic montage would in the film itself. There's actually creativity involved in their structure, utilizing dialog from the movie instead of some third party narrator, lacing in jokes or making up jokes through editing that sometimes aren't even in the movie, and pumping up the score. I think I could argue that there is not a more visceral, nor a more manipulative art form than music. Through a conjunction of a few chords, a variance in rhythm and orchestration, music can do in 30 seconds what a movie takes 2 hours to accomplish, a novel 500 pages. It can suck you in, get your adrenaline pumping, make you feel happy, sad, frightened, in love, or annoyed. Matched with the proper visual imagery, you can make the shittiest movie look enticing. And that's really what a trailer is for: to convince people to watch your movie on the merits of the 60 second trailer rather than the quality of the film itself. If anything, opening weekend numbers should be attributed to the power of the trailer and marketing campaign, not the quality of the movie. The movie itself is tertiary.

And with the prevalent use of text - god knows, it's probably just a fad - Hollywood is belying a very positive assumption about the American populace - we're literate! Now if this isn't a cause for celebration, I don't know what is. The current estimation of American society is that we don't need someone to tell us what to think, they can write it down for us and we can read it! Well, I am just tickled pink by this.

Below is a requiem for the trailer voice. If only we could burn it in effigy.

One of the most annoying trailers I can remember:
A River Runs Through It

Loving LOVING the trailer voice in this classic:
Home Alone

Here, we notice the trailer voice on its death bed. Used in introduction, it disappears completely, never to return:
Independence Day

And one of my favorite trailers today, from yet to be released
Superbad.

It's funny, after every trailer and before every feature, you get an annoying PSA that says, "Please. No talking during the movie." Well, it seems the trailer gods have taken that advice to heart. Finally.

Bush Vetoes Stem Cell Bill

Sorry to get political, here on the Static, but today, President (*barf) Bush vetoed a bill promoting embryonic stem cell research, supported by 70% of America, saying that the bill "disregards the sanctity of human life."

Since the start of the Iraq War, it is estimated that as many as 655,000+ people have died either directly or indirectly due to the war. This includes 3,466 American soldiers. That doesn't include the thousands of seriously, often permanently, injured men and women. As of May 29, 2007, the number of American soldiers wounded in action was 25,549.

Above is a picture of baby George W. Bush, about a year too late. Just imagine, if this embryo would have been used for stem cell research, it would have saved the lives of over 655,000 people, roughly the population of the Kingdom of Bhutan. Not to mention the lives saved by the actual results of the research.

This makes me sick. I am actually sick. The only life this man cares about begins at conception and ends at birth. That goes for his administration and a majority of the Republican legislature - they could still come to their senses and override Bush's veto. But who really sees that happening?

I'm giddy! You understand? GIDDY!

Interpol, whose new album, Our Love to Admire, will finally be released this July after a three year wait, has just offered up the album's opener, "Pioneer to the Falls." The track starts off moody and subdued, because they're Interpol, and just before the rhythm section comes to life, Paul Banks reassures us, "The soul can wait." My soul can't wait, Paul! I'm impatient, god damnit! But the band notes a little impatience of their own as the emotional prowess of the song builds perpetually and elegantly into a thrilling conclusion of percussion and strings prefigured by Paul's admission, "I felt you so much today." Everybody sing: "I FELT YOU SO MUCH TODAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

New Music from Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Fuck yeah! New song from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and their forthcoming LP Is Is. The song is nasty, reminiscent of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs I used to love - which was pretty much everything before Show Your Bones. Nick Zinner's guitar is epically huge and Karen O sounds like her old mocking, condescending self, all the while acquiescing some derring do, no doubt - "count me down, boy." Who knows, maybe she'll start spitting on audience members again. One can only hope.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs: "Down Boy"

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

40 years ago, the Beatles released Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and, somehow, oddly, amazingly changed the Western world. A hyperbolic statement to be sure, but this would be the only album from a rock band to which such a sentiment could feasibly be applied. Or at least give you pause. This is a great article in this weekend's Slate about the album. Please enjoy.

Thank You, Judd

A review of Knocked Up would be superfluous. If you haven't heard of this film or read its nearly unanimous, universal praise, you probably live in a cave with an army of woolly mammoths, or are perpetually drunk off your ass. And I mean perpetually. Like, you probably have a martini IV hooked right into your aorta.

I saw Knocked up the other night against my body's better judgment - I hadn't slept in a few days, yet I decided to see the last show of the night. It should be a testament to the quality of this film and its subsequent word-of-mouth-hurricane, that the theater was literally packed at 10:35 on a Monday night.

And I can almost guarantee not a single person left that theater disappointed. It was singular in its constant humor - out and out riotous, leaving at least a few of the people sitting around me giggling uncontrollably long after the jokes landed and the story had moved on - and in its poignancy. And this is all I want to say: Thank you, Judd Apatow. Thank you for becoming the new "King of Comedy." Thank you for making tragedy funny, again. Thank you for understanding that insecurities can be celebrated, that losers really are lovable, that life hurts, but that its unbearable if you can't laugh at it. 10 years ago, when Adam Sandler and Jim Carey ruled the comedy scene, humor equaled slapstick, gross-out, buffoonery. Of course they were funny. They embodied escapist entertainment at its highest. But now, as Mr. Apatow prepares to take over the world, he's giving us comedies seeped in reality, with stories that legitimately sting, and characters that, as a fellow human being, are almost impossible not to love. His protagonists aren't heroic because they save the day, they don't stand out as an exemplar among his fellow men, and they're not necessarily the funniest guys in the room. They're heroes simply because they do their best, and they try to do the right thing, no matter how hard, or how silly it makes them look.

It's a simple equation: humor = tragedy + time. Nobody knows this better than Judd. His characters honestly hurt. So no matter how hard you laugh during his movies - and you will laugh your ass off - you'll still walk away with a lump in your throat, knowing that what you've just seen wasn't a cartoon. It was real. Life is funny, once you stop crying. Thank you, Judd.

The Mountain Goats - No Children (Live at Pitchfork)

I happened upon this video last summer by accident. I have no idea who shot this, or why they decided to post only 49 seconds of the performance. Pay particularly close attention to the :28 second mark. There's an absurdly sexy guy singing his heart out. I mean, so sexy it hurts. Consider yourselves warned.

Blind Melon - No Rain

When a music video can choke you up, you know you've seen something special. Here's to all the little bumble bees.

The Field - From Here We Go Sublime

From Here We Go Sublime is the debut album from The Field, which consists of one dude – trance producer, Axel Wilner – straight out of Stockholm, Sweden. Axel really wasn’t shittin’ us when he named his album – more often than not it really and truly is sublime. Whether driving down the highway at night, watching red and white lights bend around the enveloping city, alone in bed with the lights off, or, hell, working out, if you’re into that sort of thing, From Here We Go Sublime manages to lift and carry the emotional intangibles to a higher place.

Unfortunately, I really don’t know enough about electronic music to give a thorough review of the album. I can’t compare and contrast to other artists or talk about influences. I don’t know how this album will affect the genre, if at all. And I certainly don’t know what ideas are especially groundbreaking, and what choices would be considered trite. What I do know is that, since buying the album a month ago, I’ve fallen in love with it. It’s not much for physical intimacy but it’s been known to hold me at night, which is nice. And so I feel obligated to review this album in some fashion or another. I feel like you need to know.

Therefore, I’ve decided to write a “running review.” I’m going to write the review in stream of consciousness fashion as I listen to the album. The process will only take as long as the album runs. I will not pause it, stop it, rewind it, etc. I will start when the album starts and end when it ends. Whatever I’ve committed to paper at the end will be the official review. Who knows if this will work? My guess is no, but there’s only one way to find out.

So, without further ado, I bring you…From Here We Go Sublime:

1. Over the Ice
Beautiful beginning to the album. Dubbed, fuzzy sounds over a persistent 4/4 beat. A dubbed woman’s voice comes in suddenly and disappears tantalizingly. The bass just fell away in favor of a wonderfully syncopated synth melody. Then the bass came back with a vengeance, accompanied by at least seven different sounds, all playing off one another to create a thrilling, jazzy syncopated melody.

This song, like so many of the songs on this album is quite hypnotic. In spite of the driving, yet muffled 4/4 bass, Over the Ice is a relaxing trip, like being thrust through the open plains in a train cabin, watching the world quietly rush past. I mean you really feel like you’re moving fast, but it’s the most peaceful bullet you’ve ever taken a ride on. The song ends with only the bass beating away, like a heart beat that will continue through the album.

2. A Paw in My Face
This track begins with an insistent high hat, like rain drops on a tin roof, coupled with dueling percussive keyboards, and the same 4/4 beat. As the song builds, picking up speed, and doubling the high hat rhythm, it all begins to feel like walking on the beach at sunrise, as the waves roll in over the sandy shore. There are a few people walking with you. An old man, trying to hang on to his youth, runs by in biker shorts. Five surfers battle for the right position to catch the right wave. The sun continues to rise and everything falls away into a funky sounding sample from the seventies.

3. Good Things End
As the title might suggest, this track opens with an incredibly ominous feel. The drum beat sounds like it’s being pounded out on a trashcan in a basement. An accompanying digital beat seems to build from the abscesses of your subconscious. Then, as if coming from miles away, a symphonic drone rises and is joined by the sporadic humming of an all male choir.

Someone keeps asking, “Hello?” and her voice echoes.

This song, if you haven’t figured, is both exciting and terrifying. It soars over a dark city defined by David Fincher (Se7en, Fight Club), over criminals, despair, and mayhem. It’s almost tribal in its insistence. Listening to this makes you feel not like a victim, but powerful, like this is your city.

4. The Little Heart Beats So Fast
Looped, staccato female moaning takes us immediately in a different direction. Coupled with an upbeat tempo, this is immediately an accessible, sexually charged…I want to say dance track, but it’s not nearly. I can’t imagine dancing to this, although I’m currently bouncing. It makes you want to move, there’s no doubt, and the synth melody and rhythms are downright nasty.

Here comes a second, counter melody crescendoing from the background to take over. The flanger, which is just a cyclical pitch adjuster, is working hard to give us momentum through the looping rhythms and melodies. I keep thinking someone is saying “Informer” in the background, but maybe that’s just my imagination.

5. Everyday
My first impression is that this song sounds like something Four Tet would produce. But that ended pretty quickly. It’s far too trance-like for Four Tet and it doesn’t bog itself down with nearly as many layers. All in all, The Field seems to thrive in its minimalism. The beats never get boring, and the musical through lines manage to be interesting as well as addictive.

Oh! He just ran the music backwards for a second, until we heard the sound of a woman’s voice being spun backwards as well. This short transition unleashed a beautiful sonic apex, in which all the previous elements were exposed as merely kinetic potential. The snare is popping harder than the bass drum which is relegated to the background. The looped voices build over fluttering notes giving wings to the butterflies in my stomach. I wonder why it’s called Everyday? Wup, no time to discuss now, we’re on to…

6. Silent
This was the first song I heard from the album. Pitchfork posted it not once but twice on their Forkcast. The Forkcast, by the way, is an amazing little playlist my dear friends at Pitchfork throw together every week with their favorite tracks. They just keep adding new songs. I think there are close to a hundred songs on the list by now. You can just press play and listen to the Pitchfork staffers favorite songs while you’re at work.

OK. That’s enough plugging for what most people dismiss as an overly pretentious online music ‘zine. But that’s what people thought of Rolling Stone when they were still relevant.

Sorry. This is actually my favorite track on the album. You wouldn’t know by how much I’ve decided to write about it. It’s the most hypnotic and it builds beautifully for 7 minutes, one element on top of another. For instance, the snare was just brought in at the 4 minute mark. Throughout, there’s been a looped voice-like sound providing the melody, by way of “Oooh”-ing. I can’t describe it well, I’m sorry, but it’s actually lovely.

If I were drowning in a green sea near the arctic, this is the song I would want playing as polar bears swim around my body in an underwater ballet, and penguins break-dance on the ice above my blue head.

7. The Deal
“The Deal” begins by pounding stakes into the ground. It’s somewhat of a return to the sinister feel of “Good Things End.” I believe a woman is calling to me from the depths of a canyon or bottomless abyss. It’s the kind of sound the Cocteau Twins built an entire career out of. Here, as is The Field’s tendency, the reverberating voice comes sparsely and cryptically. What does she want? I can’t tell if she’s happy. Perhaps, she’s mother earth, neither happy nor sad. She’s just building the world around her with every bellow and coo.

That’s ridiculous – “bellow and coo.” That’s not what she’s doing at all. I don’t even know what that means. I like this song but I feel like it’s something I might hear at Sea World. It’s kind of Enya-ish. Maybe that’s just the woman’s voice. But, the song seems to be using her quite a bit. Looped. The same few notes over and over again, as the music builds around her.

Yeah. Sea World. I feel like I’m watching fish. That’s OK, I suppose. It’s very relaxing.

Oh, he just used a weird electronic sound that sounded like it came out of an old Super Nintendo game, like Star Fox, and seemed completely out of place. Why did he do that? Man, a running diary right now is this guy’s worst enemy. Most reviews would just skip over that shit, but not me, motherfucker! I’m on to you! Don’t bring that shit in my house!

Jesus, this review is getting long. So is this song. We’re up to 8 minutes. I’ve run out of anything to say about it. Let’s just wait until the next track comes along.

Ten minutes.

8. Sun & Ice
Really beautiful opening. The high hat is gently working its way into the picture. 4/4 thumping – classic heart beat.

I’m tired. I should have done this review when it wasn’t so late and I wasn’t so tired. I’m impressed if you’re still reading. I probably would have quit by now.

Have you ever been inside a cave as a storm blows in and the wind howls outside? You can smell the rain, and if you look beyond the trees, you can see it coming and heading right for you. A big wall of rain, behind the howling wind. That’s what this song feels like.

Really cool thing just happened, the song broke, popped, scratched, and stopped, like the needle on the record was being jerked around. It only lasted for a second, followed by a brief moment of silence, and then the music dropped in right on the One. It was actually quite delightful and a very clever way to hit the apex without needing a long building crescendo.

9. Mobilia
This is a really cool song that sounds like two records with different bpm’s are being played simultaneously. For a while things seem to be working well, but every 20 seconds or so, the beats digress from one another creating a very trippy, anxious feeling.

As the song progresses, it begins to feel almost self-righteous, using horn-sounding melodies and a wild rhythm on the high-hat. I almost feel like I’m being led into battle. Albeit a battle in which all the soldiers are hopped up on codeine. But a battle, nonetheless. Freedo-[yawn]!

Eat your heart out, Mel Gibson.

And stop torturing people, you sick fuck!

10. From Here We Go Sublime
The eponymous track, and the last song on the album. As with all great albums, this one has only 10 songs, but this is another topic for another day.

The piano is being tapped insistently. Over which, a plethora of samples come and go along with a throbbing something that, for the life of me, I can’t describe. But the album does end with an old sample from a 60s song that I can’t pin point. It’s a bunch of guys, their voices distorted, singing “Shoo-bop, Shoo-bop.” It’s awesome and creepy. I bet this guy loves the Shining. That would make a lot of sense.

And that’s the end of the album! Yea! It’s over! I know this review was ungodly long and I’m currently just making it longer, but if you’ve made it this far, I’m sure you’ve gathered that this is a wonderful album and I hope you have the opportunity to listen to it.

Actually, you could have gotten that from reading just the first three paragraphs. Oh, well!

I will never do this again.