extreme flat and same-y // tempo range is narrow, guitar tones sound the same // first four tracks blend into each other COMPLETELY // j casablancas’ vocals are nasal, whiny, grating- affect never changes, no diversity of pitch // lyrics are extremely thin, repetitive, hold almost no substance- attitude is quite juvenile // “last nite” fails to stand out, gets lost in homogeneity // despite the lo-fi production there’s no expression // trapped in the early 00s, but not in a flattering way // one long, mildly annoying loop
overall very pleasant, warm, and cohesive // strong old folk / americana feel, especially in vocal harmonies // simpler emotionally and structurally than some earlier folk traditions, though a bit more complex than something like the kossoy sisters, for example // clear roots-revival intention rather than reinvention // songwriting leans heavily on pastoral imagery and familiar progressions // beauty comes from texture and harmony more than risk or surprise // occasionally feels too reverent // careful preservation instead of exploration // i enjoy it, but wish it pushed further or introduced a clearer new idea // contemporary folk done well, just not particularly adventurous
immediately gripping // playful, angular, and full of personality // melodies feel off-kilter but inevitable, like ur limping towards the sunset on a hot summer night // classic without feeling stiff // sense of humor aaaallll over the record, especially in the phrasing and timing, delicious // feels foundational but also weird in a way that still feels fun and new // i now understand why so many musicians orbit monk // truly everybody wants to be A CAT
this album FUCKS, relentlessly // pure anxious propulsion, music from your nervous system // physically awkward in the best way, like your limbs dont know where to go // paranoid, twitchy, tightly wound but never in the same way // rhythm dynamics feel alive and unstable, always pushing // i zimbra as an opener is feral and delicious, perfect opener // life during wartime is all adrenaline and dread, no wasted motions or e-motions // air floats strangely, unsettling without being aggressive // paper is my spiritual anthem, obsessive and affirming // art-rock at peak tension- smart, weird, and fully bodied // sounds like thinking too fast
it’s fine. madonna has stronger, sharper records // fun, a little sexy, clearly built for movement, dancing // very of its time, but in a way i enjoy rather than resent // production leans into club pop without fully committing to risk, but! vocoder production is good and enjoyable // music title track is a great opener, immediate and confident // runaway lover is underrated, playful and loose // what it feels like for a girl is doing something most mainstream pop girlies today wish they were brave enough to attempt; vulnerable, political, restrained; kind of a softer courtney love energy // paradise might be my fav // gone would have been a perfect closer; reflective, melancholy, genuinely earned // then american pie happens ): the original song is sacred, it is a cultural artifact, it is already complete; covering it adds nothing, reveals nothing, improves nothing
it flattens the album’s emotional landing and feels wildly unnecessary
ending the record there feels like drinking a beer and waking up with a headache // overall enjoyable, occasionally great, but not essential madonna
HISTORICAL MEGALITH of an album // not just defining for ebm / hardcore, but for the exact psychic weather of the mid-90s:
soundtrack to post-rave comedown- optimism curdling into paranoia
berlin wall aftermath, bosnia, rwanda, end of peace-and-unity rhetoric
underground dance scenes splintering fast, no shared center anymore
jungle going mainstream, four-to-the-floor mutating into harder, uglier forms
drugs darker, weed heavier, “dark” and “darkside” becoming everyday language
shift from party bravado to gothic intensity across music culture (cypress hill —> wu-tang)
this album is precision-tooled for that moment // total divestment of cool or subtlety, all teeth and nerve endings // hardcore tempos, breakbeats, distortion, everything on the surface // disaffection expressed as a collective uugghh rather than theory or politics // their law isn’t nuanced, but it doesn’t need to be // start the dance (no good) shows how close the mainstream and underground already were // paranoia as rhythm, anger as propulsion // no skips, every track hits // poison and one love are core texts // pure gritted-teeth energy, which informs my personal visual language to this day
i get it, i truly do, i just dont like it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
