The last time I wrote about music on Flying Houses was on July 20, 2010. It was a review of the Pitchfork Festival and it is strangely enough one of the most popular posts on Flying Houses. I felt it was a missed opportunity when I did not review this year's festival--but I only went to Saturday's shows, and felt that something so incomplete should not be included (but to summarize: Cloud Nothings in the driving rain playing 10 minute version of "Wasted Days" = euphoria/horror, 9.3/10; Atlas Sound playing slower songs in heavy torrential rain, Bradford Cox wearing suntan lotion he forgot to rub in, seemingly auditioning for a second career in stand-up comedy = hilarity/boredom and discomfort, 6.7/10; Lotus Plaza in between those two sets, Lockett's dreamy voice floating across the atmosphere through the trees, about two or three songs performed as they should be live = pure abbreviated satisfaction; 8.0/10; Wild Flag opening up with "See No Evil," closing with "Romance," and tearing s*** apart in between = ecstasy, 9.6/10; Sleigh Bells sounding way too eager to please, shouting "F***!" and "S***!" a lot as if exhausted/exhilarated, being way back in the crowd due to later set time and burgeoning popularity of that band = i'd rather be listening at home alone, 5.3/10; leaving before Godspeed You! Black Emperor because I felt that nothing could top Wild Flag, was bored, was tired, was there alone (horrible way to go). In some fantasy world I'll get a job in Chicago and be there next year even though the Bar will be like, one week later, and actually have friends who like indie rock and will enjoy myself more--but in reality, the festival will probably continue to be populated by increasingly obscure bands, with the best moments saved for the rare new acts that happen to be magnificent, like Cloud Nothings.
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Animal Collective played Pitchfork in Summer 2011--the only other year I missed besides 2008, which appeared to be the best line-up of any year, but I digress....I did sort of see Panda Pear at the 2010 Festival while waiting for LCD Soundsystem, but as has been the rumor, live, their band(s) does not seem to inspire excitement, but confusion, delirium, boredom, and incredulity.
It's all hearsay I guess, since I've never made an effort to see them live because of such fears, and because I like listening to their albums over and over just fine. That said, I believe I stated that Merriweather Post Pavilion was the best album of the 2000s (better than Kid A), and that LCD's This is Happening would be remembered as one of the best of the 2010's (even though we are still in the early stages of the decade). Where then, does Centipede Hz. fit in?
I am not going to open myself up to ridicule and claim that this album is better than Merriweather. But I will say that the visual component of this album gives it another dimension that should be taken into account in any review. Now true, most people do not want to put on a 53 minute collection of psychedelic visuals to complement the same 53 minutes of music. You simply have to be on drugs in order to give yourself away to such a meditative exercise. However, it is worth doing at least once. I have done it at least five times, I think.
On the basis of the music alone, I might be inclined to agree with Pitchfork's 7.4/10 assessment of the album, but taking the visuals into account, this album deserves a score in the early 9's. While the visual accompaniment is nothing new, it is a throwback to more innocent times for me. It reminds me of going to see concerts at Irving Plaza ten years ago where, in between sets, the big projector screen would descend, and DJs would play either music videos or random songs with crazy visuals that only made sense on the most esoteric level. This was way better than standing awkwardly for thirty minutes, trying to think of something to say to your friend when you are amidst a spectacle and are curiously bereft of other interesting topics of conversation.
Centipede Hz. is basically made for this--but I have to be honest and admit my suspicion that it is also made especially for stoners. Animal Collective albums have always been "druggy," but this album goes further than any of those and into all-out psychedelia in its visuals. Sometimes they are exhilarating, hilarious, profound, spine-tingling, beautiful, or just awe-inspiring. None of the videos seem professionally shot by the Collective's contemporaries, but rather appear to be pieces of "found footage" with a few self-made lo-fi shots thrown into the mix. There is lots of repetition and sometimes the lyrics reflect the visuals, which is usually when it is most hilarious. Like when there is a lyric about a "See-saw" and you see two horses on a see-saw. Or when darker sounding songs include black-and-white videos that look like they came out of Cold War propaganda, or really sad/scary Disney-type animation. In particular the openings of "Mercury Man," "New Turn Burnout," and "Amanita" just make me very excited for what is about to come.
But every song is good --there are about three great songs, and about four or five really good songs, and a remaining three or four sounds that are only merely good.
This is not as high a percentage as Merriweather, but these two albums are quite different. Merriweather is unabashedly mainstream--or least as mainstream as you can get with Animal Collective. Centipede is the 2nd most mainstream album they have made, and it is the 2nd best album they have made period, in my opinion.
I am sure that other people will claim Feels and Strawberry Jam and even Sung Tongs are better (to say nothing of comparisons to Panda Bear's solo work) but it depends on the kind of person you are, and the kind of mood you are in. If you like your music fast, loud, weird, and thought-provoking--this is your album. However if you like it slower, more contemplative, quieter, potentially pleasant-nap-inducing--surely Feels or Sung Tongs is up your alley (or Panda Bear's albums). If you like an album that's a ridiculous mish-mash from beginning to end but builds to an undeniably mind-blowing mid-album 13 minute two-song suite, then Strawberry Jam is a good option. And obviously if you like hearing highly-polished Animal Collective at their least weird and most poppy, Merriweather is the place to start (as it should be for anyone new to the band).
This is not a perfect album - I fully admit that a few songs I can look away from the visuals and do some reading or something - but most of the time my attention is too closely drawn, and the songs are just too awesome. Particularly great is "Amanita" as a closing number, which, along with "Rosie Oh" and a couple other songs, has at least three distinct "parts" which you can't easily define as a verse or chorus, but that add something new each time so the song evolves, while still keeping its basic rhythm. "Rosie Oh" and "New Town Burnout" are the two Panda Bear songs here, and while I want to say they are the best, I cannot. While they are certainly among the best, you have to include several Avey Tare songs with them that are on just as high (if not a higher) level. "Amanita" is the culmination of everything they do on this album, and in a way, their career.
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The last album reviewed here was on July 8, 2010. It was Wolf Parade's Expo '86, which I praised. That is [probably going to be?] Wolf Parade's last album, as they are now on indefinite hiatus. I do not mind so much because if Handsome Furs and Sunset Rubdown ever toured together, it would become apparent that Wolf Parade is not greater than the sum of their parts.
Another review right before then was This is Happening which most people believe is the final LCD Soundsystem album. I'm not trying to jinx Animal Collective by writing this. I just write reviews of albums when I think they are special, or deserve comment. The visual aspect of this album is what makes it incredible--and song-wise it's not too bad either. But I hope that more bands in the future will take a similar approach to joining video and music--not necessarily in the expected music video format, but something like this. It's true that Sonic Youth did a similar thing with Goo, but those videos are all, distinctly, music videos, usually directed by then-obscure, now-famous directors (Sofia Coppola, Todd Haynes, et. al.) and the album does not hang together as a cohesive whole but just feels like a collection of songs (and even though they're really good songs--the vast majority at least--the effect on the listener-viewer is nothing compared to that of Centipede Hz which is so powerful as to almost totally remove the spectator from reality).
And it is in my humble opinion, that removing the spectator from reality is one of art's highest aims--even if for only an hour, and even if reality must be faced again--these new, dream-like sensations nurture the soul, and may contribute to a person's happiness (if not long term, at least in the short term) and help them find a way to overcome the obstacles that the 2012 daily existence throws in their paths.
Showing posts with label Atlas Sound. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Atlas Sound. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Atlas Sound, Icy Demons, The Shapers - Lincoln Hall, Chicago, January 15, 2010
If I had to make a list of the most disappointing concerts I have ever attended, this one would rank near the top. I did not take any pictures, as was the case for the only previous concert review on Flying Houses (Fiery Furnaces at Spaceland in L.A. in May of 2008...) because my digital camera is pretty much shot.
Seriously though--what has been more disappointing than this? OK, I went to go see The Allman Brothers and Ratdog once, and I am not a fan of either, and I was bored out of my mind, but it was at Red Rocks, which is a nice venue, and the energy of the crowd, annoying as some of their habits might have been, was infectious, and at the end of the night I did not feel like I had wasted my time and would have had more fun doing pretty much anything else.
Go back further--years and years of concert-going, since 2000, ten years, and it's really tough for me to think of anything.
Let's start with the positives: Lincoln Hall is about a year old, and a very nice venue. You can almost tell it is owned by the same people as Schuba's because their beer is not overpriced and the space is clean. It does bear more than a passing resemblance to the Metro, but it is not as hectic. The only negative, I would say, were the doormen, who, at the end of the night, requested tips from everyone, which made me feel guilty for not giving anything. How fucking annoying. Now, if they had said, donate tips for the relief effort in Haiti, then I would have given 10 or something. (That I am reading The Hacienda: How Not to Run a Club, which details the bouncers demanding money at Christmastime to donate to charities, may have led me to believe that these times are just truly terrible.)
We watched some of the Bulls game, and they beat the Wizards in double overtime. It was a great game, and the beginning of what I hoped would be a fantastic evening. The Shapers played first, and they were sort of psychedelic, and unremarkable. I liked about two of their songs.
Icy Demons came next, and this was my first time seeing them. I did not realize they were from Chicago until their singer informed everyone. They had a much higher percentage of songs I liked. This was the highlight of the evening for me, but I don't think I'd go out of my way to see them.
Finally, around midnight, Bradford Cox took the stage--alone. He looked pensive, depressed. I was immediately upset that there was no drummer. No other musician onstage. My friend said, "Don't worry, it will be alright." No, it wouldn't be alright. 90 minutes later I would be traumatized, exhausted, nearly ill.
Someone shouted, "Who is your cardiologist?" at him. He said, "Okay, I guess it's going to be a short concert." If only it were, Bradford! Chicago is full of stupid assholes, even at indie rock shows. I recall Ian Mackaye being razzed by the crowd during an Evens set a couple years back, and he was like, "Dude, WTF?" and then someone was like, "Welcome to Chicago."
Bradford was like, "How is everyone?" And everyone was like, "Good." And someone shouted, "How are you doing?" And he said, "Oh, I'm not doing so well."
Before he played his first song, he said, "This is for Jay."
This was the elephant in the room. I was shocked to hear of Jay Reatard's death several days ago. I never got into him. I tried listening to him a few times. I bet he would have been fun to see open for the Pixies on their Doolittle tour in Chicago, just a month prior, if only because Bad Lieutenant couldn't play their slot, but that is just because of my obsession with New Order and Bernard Sumner (more on that to come, just wait a couple days). Bradford and Jay were friends--two of the most confrontational artists in the indie rock limelight--true originals, living up to the definition of "punk" par excellence. Reatard's death is not quite as monolithic as say, Kurt Cobain's, but along with Elliott Smith's, it is a tragic, unbelievable event that will continue to be felt for years and years.
So, imagine one of your closest musical compatriots trying to play a show just two days after such a thing. I did not recognize the first song, and maybe Bradford had written it in the day previous, as a true homage to Jay--if anyone is capable of that kind of output, it's Cox--and the song was wonderful. Sad, beautiful, moving, what one expects out of Atlas Sound.
NOW, what should have happened at this point, is that a backing band should have come out of the shadows, and accompanied him in a show that would have been energetic and fun, a celebration of life, something to inspire the crowd. Not a chance. That unbelievably happy-sounding song, "Walkabout" was played second--and it sounded about one hundred times more depressing than it does on record.
From there, things just got worse. At least on "Walkabout" there were flashes of a brilliant re-interpretation. There was one more inspired moment--Cox played "Flourescent Grey," a Deerhunter song that Jay Reatard once covered. At this point, when he sung about decaying bodies and flesh turning gray, and about someone else being his god in high school, the concert was transformed into an Artaud-esque exercise in cruelty. Everyone who knows and loves Deerhunter or Atlas Sound (this was my 4th time seeing Cox perform) knows that he is not the most emotionally-balanced individual, and deals with loads and loads of psychological, emotional, and physical pain on a daily basis--but this was the only time that I truly felt an artist wanted his audience to feel the way he felt--that is, horribly uncomfortable, pained, and heartbroken.
There was no "Sheila" or "Quick Canal" (the latter may have been played, in a haze of three or four long songs that I could not differentiate). "Criminals" was played, after a brief moment of Cox putting on some kind of persona--Johnny Cash or Bob Dylan--with a harmonica, and a pronounced southern drawl, and pretending to be so happy and "crowd-friendly" that it functioned as hyperbole. It seemed funny for about a second, and then just turned sad.
He told a weird story about Climax, GA, and Cumming, GA, and the Cumming Eye Clinic. Perhaps this was the only comforting part about the entire show--juvenile humor. Eventually he played an extremely long version of "Attic Lights," and I swore he said, "this song is about my death," as he started it.
The show went on until about 1:20 AM and when it ended, Bradford did genuinely thank everyone for coming out, but I think it was a great relief for all of us that we could leave. I tried playing my friend Logos in the car afterwards, and Rainwater Cassette Exchange in order to show how it should have sounded, how he was much better than this, but by then I was just annoyed.
He may have his reasons for playing onstage alone, but when I saw Atlas Sound at the Echo in L.A. in March of 2008, I had a great time! He was wearing a Wipers t-shirt, talking about how he had just bought it that day, he played an awesome version of "Ativan," and he was just so happy the entire time. Now, everyone knows that you can't really be happy 100% of the time ("I should know, I'm a doctor..."), BUT if you are a successful artist, charging $15 a pop for 500 people, with Lincoln Hall taking in $7,500 in ticket sales along, not counting convenience charges--maybe you are earning close to $1,000 for playing for 90 minutes. OK, I can see why you don't want backing musicians, but I really don't think Bradford is a greedy guy. He has his reasons, but at least one huge fan of his doesn't understand them. This was the most depressing musical experience of my life.
I still intend to see Deerhunter on April Fool's Day in Chicago. Obviously I forgive Bradford because he must be going through a really difficult time right now, but I really hope that show will come closer to meeting my expectations.
Seriously though--what has been more disappointing than this? OK, I went to go see The Allman Brothers and Ratdog once, and I am not a fan of either, and I was bored out of my mind, but it was at Red Rocks, which is a nice venue, and the energy of the crowd, annoying as some of their habits might have been, was infectious, and at the end of the night I did not feel like I had wasted my time and would have had more fun doing pretty much anything else.
Go back further--years and years of concert-going, since 2000, ten years, and it's really tough for me to think of anything.
Let's start with the positives: Lincoln Hall is about a year old, and a very nice venue. You can almost tell it is owned by the same people as Schuba's because their beer is not overpriced and the space is clean. It does bear more than a passing resemblance to the Metro, but it is not as hectic. The only negative, I would say, were the doormen, who, at the end of the night, requested tips from everyone, which made me feel guilty for not giving anything. How fucking annoying. Now, if they had said, donate tips for the relief effort in Haiti, then I would have given 10 or something. (That I am reading The Hacienda: How Not to Run a Club, which details the bouncers demanding money at Christmastime to donate to charities, may have led me to believe that these times are just truly terrible.)
We watched some of the Bulls game, and they beat the Wizards in double overtime. It was a great game, and the beginning of what I hoped would be a fantastic evening. The Shapers played first, and they were sort of psychedelic, and unremarkable. I liked about two of their songs.
Icy Demons came next, and this was my first time seeing them. I did not realize they were from Chicago until their singer informed everyone. They had a much higher percentage of songs I liked. This was the highlight of the evening for me, but I don't think I'd go out of my way to see them.
Finally, around midnight, Bradford Cox took the stage--alone. He looked pensive, depressed. I was immediately upset that there was no drummer. No other musician onstage. My friend said, "Don't worry, it will be alright." No, it wouldn't be alright. 90 minutes later I would be traumatized, exhausted, nearly ill.
Someone shouted, "Who is your cardiologist?" at him. He said, "Okay, I guess it's going to be a short concert." If only it were, Bradford! Chicago is full of stupid assholes, even at indie rock shows. I recall Ian Mackaye being razzed by the crowd during an Evens set a couple years back, and he was like, "Dude, WTF?" and then someone was like, "Welcome to Chicago."
Bradford was like, "How is everyone?" And everyone was like, "Good." And someone shouted, "How are you doing?" And he said, "Oh, I'm not doing so well."
Before he played his first song, he said, "This is for Jay."
This was the elephant in the room. I was shocked to hear of Jay Reatard's death several days ago. I never got into him. I tried listening to him a few times. I bet he would have been fun to see open for the Pixies on their Doolittle tour in Chicago, just a month prior, if only because Bad Lieutenant couldn't play their slot, but that is just because of my obsession with New Order and Bernard Sumner (more on that to come, just wait a couple days). Bradford and Jay were friends--two of the most confrontational artists in the indie rock limelight--true originals, living up to the definition of "punk" par excellence. Reatard's death is not quite as monolithic as say, Kurt Cobain's, but along with Elliott Smith's, it is a tragic, unbelievable event that will continue to be felt for years and years.
So, imagine one of your closest musical compatriots trying to play a show just two days after such a thing. I did not recognize the first song, and maybe Bradford had written it in the day previous, as a true homage to Jay--if anyone is capable of that kind of output, it's Cox--and the song was wonderful. Sad, beautiful, moving, what one expects out of Atlas Sound.
NOW, what should have happened at this point, is that a backing band should have come out of the shadows, and accompanied him in a show that would have been energetic and fun, a celebration of life, something to inspire the crowd. Not a chance. That unbelievably happy-sounding song, "Walkabout" was played second--and it sounded about one hundred times more depressing than it does on record.
From there, things just got worse. At least on "Walkabout" there were flashes of a brilliant re-interpretation. There was one more inspired moment--Cox played "Flourescent Grey," a Deerhunter song that Jay Reatard once covered. At this point, when he sung about decaying bodies and flesh turning gray, and about someone else being his god in high school, the concert was transformed into an Artaud-esque exercise in cruelty. Everyone who knows and loves Deerhunter or Atlas Sound (this was my 4th time seeing Cox perform) knows that he is not the most emotionally-balanced individual, and deals with loads and loads of psychological, emotional, and physical pain on a daily basis--but this was the only time that I truly felt an artist wanted his audience to feel the way he felt--that is, horribly uncomfortable, pained, and heartbroken.
There was no "Sheila" or "Quick Canal" (the latter may have been played, in a haze of three or four long songs that I could not differentiate). "Criminals" was played, after a brief moment of Cox putting on some kind of persona--Johnny Cash or Bob Dylan--with a harmonica, and a pronounced southern drawl, and pretending to be so happy and "crowd-friendly" that it functioned as hyperbole. It seemed funny for about a second, and then just turned sad.
He told a weird story about Climax, GA, and Cumming, GA, and the Cumming Eye Clinic. Perhaps this was the only comforting part about the entire show--juvenile humor. Eventually he played an extremely long version of "Attic Lights," and I swore he said, "this song is about my death," as he started it.
The show went on until about 1:20 AM and when it ended, Bradford did genuinely thank everyone for coming out, but I think it was a great relief for all of us that we could leave. I tried playing my friend Logos in the car afterwards, and Rainwater Cassette Exchange in order to show how it should have sounded, how he was much better than this, but by then I was just annoyed.
He may have his reasons for playing onstage alone, but when I saw Atlas Sound at the Echo in L.A. in March of 2008, I had a great time! He was wearing a Wipers t-shirt, talking about how he had just bought it that day, he played an awesome version of "Ativan," and he was just so happy the entire time. Now, everyone knows that you can't really be happy 100% of the time ("I should know, I'm a doctor..."), BUT if you are a successful artist, charging $15 a pop for 500 people, with Lincoln Hall taking in $7,500 in ticket sales along, not counting convenience charges--maybe you are earning close to $1,000 for playing for 90 minutes. OK, I can see why you don't want backing musicians, but I really don't think Bradford is a greedy guy. He has his reasons, but at least one huge fan of his doesn't understand them. This was the most depressing musical experience of my life.
I still intend to see Deerhunter on April Fool's Day in Chicago. Obviously I forgive Bradford because he must be going through a really difficult time right now, but I really hope that show will come closer to meeting my expectations.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Atlas Sound - Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel
"A Ghost Story" is easily the creepiest song on the album, very powerful aesthetically, gets you into the mood of the album. If anyone thinks this song is cute or making too big of a deal about itself, I urge you to listen to it in the dark, with no lights on at night, and see if you don't start feeling like freaking out because a ghost is going to emerge from your closet.
"Recent Bedroom" opens up the "proper" album, as the first track acts as more of a "found object" sound collage. Immediately, you notice that Cox is going to sing very differently on Atlas Sound than on Deerhunter. Gone is the rapid, throaty, yelping and here is the grandiose, impossibly slow, highest-pitched, most angelic, comforting style to match any other current performer including Thom Yorke. The lyrics are very simple, I could practically write all the lyrics for the album in a paragraph (except for "River Card"): I walked outside/I could not cry/I don't know why. It's apparently about seeing a dying relative and not knowing how it makes you feel that it's not making you cry. Maybe it's a more complex sentiment than that but I like the ambiguity of emotion.
"River Card" is apparently based on a short story about falling in love with one's own reflection in a river. Cox intones how badly in love he is with this person that is actually only a reflected image, but he realizes that if he tried to throw himself into said cherished object he would only be drowned. It's a powerful statement.
"Quarantined" is apparently about how Cox spent weeks/months in a hospital having various surgeries performed on him and how alone he felt being away from everyone he knew. This is the first really weird song on the album, and you will know what I mean when you hear Cox sing, "Quarantined" for the first time: "Quar-an-tined/and kept/so far away/from my friends" but as weird as the pronunciation is, by its end the song has stretched into the kind of lilting sound aesthetic that Cox has carried throughout the entire album. He talked about how obsessed he was with the My Bloody Valentine album Loveless and how he would listen to it over and over, trying to understand how that band had pulled such ethereal sounds from their instruments and effects gadgets. Now, that album very famously was very expensive to make (most expensive indie rock album of all time, maybe?) topping out over a million dollars. It appears that Cox has made most of these recordings under rather bare circumstances, making his accomplishment all the more impressive.
The sound that enters in "Quarantined," a sort of melodic humming in the highest registers of pitch with an atmospheric glow, reappears in "On Guard," which is a song you can listen to and not even realize you are listening to it, like a bunch of songs on Cryptograms that are instrumental. Actually, it is easier to listen to "Winter Vacation" and think you are still listening to "On Guard," so similar as they sound to each other and so seamlessly do they blend together into one. However, "Cold as Ice" asserts itself in the mix next. This song is apparently (and this whole album, in a way is) about unrequited love, how you can be so close to one person and so in love with everything they do and how they can act as if everything's totally normal and you're just their friend and not someone who wants to be their lover...However such songs never reveal their meaning so clearly. The lyrics are left minimal and vague, which only serves to elevate them in the mind of the listener.
"Scraping Past" is the second weirdly-pronounced song after "Quarantined" and its ending does not enter into the soaring heights of that other black sheep of a song. Instead, it offers the most catharsis of any song on the album, Cox weirdly pronouncing "Scraping past" over and over, paying particular attention to the sound of every letter as it pertains to each word. "Small Horror" introduces the re-surfacing of the sound echo that carries the album, and is a rather minimalistic song, but serves as an appropriate taking off point for the final stunning 1/3 of the album.
"Ready, Set, Glow," an instrumental, minimalist, serves its purpose well. "Bite Marks" opens up with a sound that comes straight out of Loveless, I swear, and may be the closest thing to a misstep on the album It is not a bad song, but the meaning is difficult to decipher, and its bassline makes it sound as if it almost wants to be a pop song, but then it sounds so sad. I don't skip it anyways because I'm very concerned about upsetting the flow of the album. "After Class" is another instrumental that is probably slightly more interesting than "Ready, Set, Glow" but serves an even greater purpose.
"Ativan" is the last "song" on the album (the title track, another instrumental, closes it out) and, as I told a friend at the show we saw after they played it, the best song on the album. It is perhaps worth noting that the first time I listened to this album, I laid down to go to bed around "Small Horror" and I could not help but think about how amazing the album was as I tried to sleep, how remarkably good the songs were, how I could already tell it was a classic, timeless statement of a record, and how the ending was one of the best endings I had heard of an album in a long, long time. Now, after listening to "Ativan" dozens of times, it is not as special to me as it once was. But the first time I heard it I could not believe it was so good.
Apparently it is a song about anti-depressant drugs that Cox had been taking recently which have an addictive quality (I believe). The song is about sleeping until you throw up, or feel drunk, sleeping while the intended target of the song goes out to have "lunch with a girl who has hair as soft as baby's breath...lunch with a girl that takes time to listen to every word you utter," quite probably the most achingly sung lines on the album, and potentially the most heartbreaking. Regardless, LTBLTWCSBCF ends with the title-track instrumental, content with whimpering out the remainder of its energy on some far away sounding distorted guitar sounds.
I may have been exagerrating when I said that Random Spirit Lover might have been better than OK Computer, and people thought I was crazy when I said that, so I will not say that Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel is better than Loveless, but I will say that it tries damn hard to be. Unless some truly amazing work is released this year, Atlas Sound's debut deserves to be near the top of the year end best of 2008 lists. Unfortunately, I would imagine that most will not remember it by then. Indeed, it seems most don't even remember it now, even though it only came out a couple of months ago.
I went nuts when it came out and listened to it many times in a row and I went to see their show at the Echo in L.A. and they played most of the songs from the album and the only one that was different was "Ativan," which had been turned into a loud shoegaze song. If I hadn't been so afraid of coming off the wrong way, I could have interviewed Bradford Cox that night (I saw him outside, but he was already talking voluminously to someone so I didn't interrupt) and pulled together much more personal insight into this album review. But I believe I have done a good enough job.
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