Well Bitchfork almost had me going there, with a 5,3 I initially thought the new Justice record might really be a dud. After listening to it I globally recognized what the reviewer was hearing and talking about and thought, allright. Makes sense.
Dumb, Dumber, I.
I wasn't impressed with their first record because it could have been a hell of a lot better. They were doing the rock/grunge/metal sound with electro and a sexy French twist, but weren't patient enough with every track as they were with Dance. Dance is perfect. The rest only at bits and pieces. The new record is not brilliant, it's not spectacular in any sense, but coming up with anything original and at the same time listenable has become something of a holy grail of 2011. After a few listens I DO think they pull it off. It's upbeat, quirky, transgenre, catchy, well rounded for the most part, and funny. For instance, at 3.25 they pull a prank on Parade by starting a fade out and then just randomly pull the volume back up again, just for kicks, I mean what else? The themes are, true, overall rock-ish but to compare this with prog is wrong. A proggy riff doesn't make a proggy band and if anything, it is the attempt to embody prog elements into blatant pop-electro that is commendable(!) and, works (.) relatively well. While their last single (audio, video, disco) takes the crown as the album's best, the remainder is no filler. In fact the only part of the entire record that works the nerves is the somewhat apologetic build up to the finale of Helix, as well as the finale itself. By then the sense of novelty bestowed upon the medieval vibe fuckmaking with the future vibe is pretty much worn out, and you can tell they're out of ideas. But then they put the crown on the head (fitting metaphor indeed, putting the single all the way back), and you accept that apology with a grin. French bastards.
But seriously, FUCK PITCHFORK. Every now and then it's allright to spit their way because if we don't, then we don't care about what they're saying. Actually nothing wrong with not giving a damn about critics, in fact, it's better than giving a damn about them. Me, I'm so far into it that it just has to go out, with a bang, or a dick. So I've made this little fuckp4k logo:
This could be a mistake on my part but I have a feeling they went with a bad review because Cross, the first Justice record, was huge in the US. This was a perfect opportunity to take a jab at a major, loved, original and respected group, and consolidate pitchfork as having better taste than you. Well for that, I fuck you.
I thought about making this an anonymous narrative, so no-one could tell who it's about. Well, two lines in, it definitely lost the potency and pure venom of my observation. So here's what happened today, in its pure form.
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The girl sitting at the table placed opposite of me (at the library, behind a two-sided table set-up with pc's at both sides) is totally into the guy sitting behind the unit across her own. She kept adjusting her hair, popping her chest, twisting and turning, trying to keep a face as straight and plastic as manipulation will allow, probably trying hard to be her profile picture, if I may dramatize. I caught her shooting a maniacal look at the guy, trying to (wo)man him down into submission. The look was saying "you cannot deny me, I'm owning the moves, i'm owning the look, you're mine, amIright?".
Did it work?
Well. Guess not. 10 minutes in she's still all plastic, still twitching, and at the same time in apparent struggle for control of every move she makes and it really amazes me how she still gets work done. I guess the one about multitasking & women, holds water. 15 minutes in her eyelids have finally started to loosen up a bit, it's almost erotic. Wait, that could be her trying to sex him down into submission. Hard to tell, it's really a science this body-language-reading business, and I'm as subjective as they get. Well, anyway. let's say she's relaxing a bit, 15 minutes in.. So I'm going to guess that there is a good chance other (no guess as to the amount) women could be just like her, and will actively (unwillingly even?) send you all sorts signs (from nervous to full on dominatrix), for at least 10-15 minutes after entering your sight range. Actually, half an hour in, she's still checking him out, less twitchy, less in her hair, but the forced poise is still there. It fits her though, she's a beautiful woman. Slender figure, delicate face, has a slightly crooked nose, but she wears it well. Her hair curles to just above her shoulders, and her fine, slim neck carries her head elegantly elevated. A sharp jaw, narrow at the mouth, with lips puckered like folds of thick silk..Her bright blue eyes are almost beaming light, accentuated by a dash of mascara, not too thick, not too thin, just right to fit her tan and hair. Her eyebrows are poetically curvy , exquisite.. starting thin from left to right, thicker at the first half, slimming down towards her glabella, just a little less dense towards the end, adding to the beauty of how seamlessly they attire her proud, strong forehead. Her only fault is exposed when she, in a twitch of hers, bends her neck backwards to look up and exposes how slim her jaw is, making her look rather frail and ill minded.. she does seem to have a certain restraint in her which translates as control and energetic forcefulness to an otherwise delicate and fine look. For some reason I bet she's quite the fuck. Her self consciousness, erratic movements and a nearly insane glance tell me she knows what she wants, and works hard to be on top of it (fully intended).
I've been checking her out for a while (subtly, it's not the first time I see her), but she will not acknowledge me in the slightest today... she hasn't twitched for me before neither, but we exchanged glances and I couldn't place them as clearly as I can for this guy. I wonder whether he noticed, and responded.. couldn't really tell by the look of her, I guess she needed more of whatever he was dishing out. Guy looks like an actor, not too mainstream, more of a Franco than a Pitt.. carries himself well, dresses to get the attention but in an understated, thus calculated, manner. Something like a lumberjack fairy, you know, kind of perfectly in between of everything, mother fucker. He looks like he eff's plenty, casual, confident and dominating.
So what now?
Well, it's funny how this played out.. by blogging all of this I definitely got a grip on it, and have been playing with eye contact all day, counting it, trying to make up my mind whether seeking contact results in contact, or is such a thing only initiated by a desire to examine something that may appear as vaguely interesting in the mist of the thoughts people go through while walking to wherever, or sitting alone doing whatever. While not interested in sharing the results of my own experimentations, I do advise all to try to observe this consciously.. it's exciting.. I felt like quite the voyeur at first but writing about it got me over the fact that this pretty creature was consuming that guy, and that I haven't felt that consumed in a while suddenly felt like a less of a strain, because there I was, observing, relishing in her emotions..her possession and zeal... rather than being consumed by jealousy, as I admittedly, was at first.
washed out - eyes be closed.
Inside your voice resounds,
Your thoughts realign
Your words recall to mind
Your short sweet life [ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsty.com/washed-out-eyes-be-closed-lyrics.html ]
Hear voices all in time
Hear the words calling (by?)
Feel the wave form now, ride the foam,
See the world clearly now
Rising up you float outside yourself
Find the source of light
You fly home, you go closer now (?)
Rising towards the light...
And that song, straight up, reminded me of another moment of clarity where lyrics took the song to another level. Three years old the album is, elbow-seldom seen kid (track name: the bones of you). Who hasn't had one of those moments, when the music just pulls you away to a world of it's own, or a different you, in a different time, when you may have been a better, a heartier person, a caring person. What the fuck happened to me? Why am I alone. (notice the absence of a question mark) O, oops, a whirlwind of emotion took hold and I took that one from the deep-dark within. I am one badly drawn boy on the inside.
Via: www.elyricsworld.com
Elbow - The Bones Of You
So I'm there
Charging around with a juggernaut brow
Overdraft, speeches and deadlines to make
Cramming commitments like cats in a sack
Telephone burn and a purposeful gait
When out of a doorway the tentacles stretch
Of a song that I know
And the world moves in slow-mo
Straight to my head
like the first cigarette of the day
And it's you, and it's May
And we're sleeping through the day
And I'm five years ago
And three thousand miles away
Do I have
time? A man of my calibre
Stood in the street like a sleepwalking teenager
No.
And I dealt with this years ago
I took a hammer to every memento
But image on image like beads on a rosary
pulled through my head as the music takes hold
and the sickener hits; I can work till I break
but I love the bones of you
That, I will never escape
And it's you, and it's May
And we're sleeping through the day
And I'm five years ago
And three thousand miles away
And I can't move my arm
Through the fear that you will wake
And I'm five years ago
And three thousand miles away
And hell, why not, here another one from elbow's seldom seen kiddo. Melodically even better Mirrorball (the lyrics don't really do it for me yet, but I get him, good for him yeah, allright go! love! hearties)
And then this one, this one I can't find the words to, but the utubers posting about it had me, uhm, thinking. But as it often happens, my thoughts didn't go the distance. Yeah come on, one minute its all teenage-sexual, then it goes to (metaphorical?) horror, and then it ends all meaningfully and drowns lesser minds (evidently) by being inconclusive? NO. I WILL NOT BE OWNED BY A FRENCHMAN (who directed the video)! Let me tell you, I watched stalkers by Andrei Tarkovsky the other day, look you Frenchman, I almost got to fully not getting it, but every now and then came a few meaningful exchanges, which signalled some conditionally relevant (and a bit more obvious) real world patterns I could relate to, and it went KONEC with me not feeling like an idiot. Watch and learn French guy with cool name, HINT MORE!
But ok, it still works.. it's nowhere(!) near(!) brilliant but it works, a bit. French turtle douche. No, joke. Yes, joke. nonoui, me neither? Did I mention the song at all? The song is a breeze!
DYE - Fantasy
And finally, o this one I can't deny, it speaks to me like a mirror. "You need to get your shit together, you can't achieve the impossible by just asking for it, you need a girlfriend, get. it. together." And then in response I go : I NEEEEED LOOOOOOVE" and the he goes "I WILL BE YOUR LIGHT" Oh the mirror will be my light? no the beta band!, no the mirror! no the ugly swan post from a while back? WHAT?!??!?! IS!?!?! GOING. ON?!?!?! deepness, that's what is.
Aaaaaand, I'm back! On facebook. unfortunately, companies I aim to work with take facebook seriously. So I, as a communication scientist, must take facebook seriously. Now, the trick is to keep it all healthy, not obsessive. Since by now I'm completely alienated from most of the people I have as friends on there....it should be easy.
Updated: 06-11-2011
2nd entry*
I have been succesfully off for two weeks minus two days at which I reconnected to cut communication expenses. Unfortunately, I haven't exactly cut into my PC usage. If you have other excellent examples of why facebooking or interwebbing aren't sexual, attractive, bad for semen and eggo's and should be h8ed, please do share! I will keep updating this page, or will after a while make a new one, yeah!
Just doesn't work for me. At all. So now I'm on a righteous Pete campaign, promoting alternative lifestyles. Get it? Do get the full intent of that statement.
