I have absolutely no idea what’s going on at any point and I can’t make head nor tail of it.
I have absolutely no idea what’s going on at any point and I can’t make head nor tail of it.
Everything/Everything. I’d say that was about right. Now I’ve never claimed to be an intellectual, but I’m no fuckwit either. I wouldn’t say I was widely read, but I’m not quite thinly read either. For example, I’ve read James Joyce’s Ulysees from cover to cover but to be honest, it was a fucking struggle and I enjoyed Roald Dahl’s the Witches a lot more. I like to keep up on current affairs to a certain extent, but more than 5 minutes a day of reading political bullshit is enough to make me yawn or want to go and punch something. I like listening to classical music every now and again – but I’m a bit of a Greatest Hits merchant in that respect.
As for this album, well it’s given me a headache. After listening to this I feel like I’ve wandered into a nightclub only to find the Phillip Glass appreciation society are hosting an experimental workshop. It’s all very clever and impeccably put together but I have absolutely no idea what’s going on at any point and I can’t make head nor tail of it. There are more wind instruments here than the London Philharmonic would know what to do with and they blurt, poot and squeal alongside the kind of percussion normally heard in a classroom full of physics students playing with relay switches.
Everything is arranged to a point that it sounds completely cluttered and chaotic and as for the lyrics, well, don’t get me started. This is the audio equivalent of driving around Brussels. You know there’s something beautiful and wonderful around here somewhere, but I’ll be fucked if I can find it and I’m sure that I’ll run out of fuel before the Grote Markt comes into view. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on here but if your record collection boasts the likes of Stephem Malkmus and Matmos then I urge you to check this out. You may well get a new thesis out of deciphering this.