oh would you look at that I’m obsessing over another band oh no what do I do well time to research the entire existence of each band member, know their full name by heart, memorize their marriage and divorce history and save every picture of the band and its members until I know more about the band than the people who were in it
David Sylvian’s “Brilliant Trees” is one of my favorite albums of all time, deftly swerving from art funk like this, the opening track, “Pulling Punches,” to pondering tracks like “Backwaters” which fall through multiple time signatures. It’s a classic, through and through. This is a Japanese copy that sadly is missing the OBI strip.
Dashboard’s a bit empty. I might need to add more taste to my dashboard.
I’m looking for blogs to follow so I can fill up some contents.
Reblog if you post one of the following:
Anni-Frid “Frida” Lyngstad
[Classic] Doctor Who
Elisabeth Sladen | Sarah Jane Smith
1960s-1980s contents, it doesn’t matter.
Music, obviously, preferably 1930s-1990s.
Monty Python’s Flying Circus
Kate Bush [yes, I’m serious]
You’ve been waiting for this: The Beatles
Cream [band] (and other related bands, e.g. Traffic, either way)
Fried chicken [Disregard that, it was a mistake I made]
Any help is appreciated! You don’t have to have all of this in your blog. As long as you have one of these, you’re fine. I’ll just check out your blog after you reblog, and then determine if I will follow you. :-)
“For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down in words with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived it. There is, however, a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy which are not thoughts, and to which as yet I have found it absolutely impossible to adapt to language. These fancies arise in the soul, alas how rarely. Only at epochs of most intense tranquillity, when the bodily and mental health are in perfection. And at those weird points of time, where the confines of the waking world blend with the world of dreams. And so I captured this fancy, where all that we see, or seem, is but a dream within a dream.”
Tame Impala's Lonerism Leaves Something to be Desired
Anders R. Viane
In 2012, Australian prog-rockers Tame Impala gave the contemporary scene an injection of something psychedelic with Lonerism, effectively embodying everything right and wrong about the late great genre.
Quite literally, the album starts off with a whisper and seems to transport the listener from the farthest fringes of their universe to inside an obsessive-compulsive’s brain as Tame Impala frontman Kevin Parker timidly delivers what can only be described as the inner monologue of a social recluse against a trippy, upbeat background of synths and galloping drums. “Be Above It” largely sets the beat of the album and is fairly exemplary of the Tame Impala has to offer.
“Why Won’t They Talk To Me?” is Lonerism’s most moving track, with its uncomfortable dissection of isolation and despair. As the album’s title suggests, loneliness is an integral theme throughout and that’s most eloquently communicated here. The song seems to continue with the same recluse character from the opening track as he navigates the stratified social hierarchy of youth. The chorus’s somber refrain channels the angst of every underdog and misfit from the last decade and strikes me as deeply personal. As Kevin Parker ends his ruminations with “One day I’ll be a star; they’ll be sorry,” an empathetic human being should feel a twinge of discomfort; the quality of his voice is just a little too real.
“Elephant” bombards the senses with an onslaught of heavy guitar licks that sound vaguely reminiscent of Led Zeppelin, something that carries throughout the album, but shines through on some songs more than others. Quite evidently, the Tame Impala was greatly influenced by the music of the late seventies and early eighties and have no qualms about revealing that, going to far as to feature a track called “Led Zeppelin” as a bonus for buyers on iTunes. The Beatles are also heavily featured here, which instinctively begs the question: homage or theft? As you listen to Lonerism, you find yourself asking that a lot. The answer largely depends on opinion, but I think it’s a bad sign when you can deconstruct something down to parts taken from other acts.
I hesitate to mention “Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control” and do so only to highlight what I consider to be a totally needless track. At six minutes long and featuring an extended drum solo, it’s generally indefensible. Still, for good measure, Tame Impala threw in random dialogue I can only presume is paraphrased from a 70s afterschool special, delivered by one of the most emotionally stunted sounding women I’ve ever heard.
In conjunction with “She Just Won’t Believe Me,” a little under a minute of that phrase on loop, it’s a one-two punches that deals the final blow to my patience. By the time I reach “Sun’s Coming Up,” the album’s final track, I’ve had enough. The closing song is a lackluster piano acid trip accompanied by Kevin Parker droning nearly indecipherable lyrics and just when you think it’s over, the song doubles in length just to fit in the obligatory distorted guitar solo.
At times, Lonerism can feel thoughtful and fresh, but only in a relative sense. In many ways, it’s a repackaging of tried and true concepts for Generation Y with some polish and swagger thrown in for added appeal. If you search the catalogues of the rock greats and some of their more obscure prog-rock counterparts, you may feel as though you’ve heard some of these songs before, but if you approach the album with the mentality of “If I haven’t heard it, it’s new to me,” then you may get something out of it. I feel Lonerism would have greatly benefited from some polishing and direction. The “mistakes” here aren’t accidents; they’re deliberate stylistic choices that are subjective and defendable, but ultimately prove self-indulgent. Lonerism is the product of unchecked creativity, what happens when you get a bunch of artsy people in one room and let them do whatever they want. The result is a lot of five minute songs with spacey, abstract sounds that strike me more as the fulfillment of the artists’ fancies than anything else. Lonerism gets to the point where it feels like the band is trying to make a statement about how creative and edgy they are and if we mouth-breathers don’t like it, it’s just because “you don’t understand, man!” I for one understand all too well and I think most listeners can figure Lonerism out for themselves. In a decade, you’re not going to be able to look back and find any innovation here. It’s faux creativity sold as a fad, thinking the thoughts of the greats after them and not being particularly subtle about it.
I give Lonerism three and a half nods out of five and tenuously recommend them to fans of the experimental. Just remember though, an experiment is no longer an experiment when it’s been done before.