Thursday, May 26, 2005

L, II

Long Hind Legs- Feb. 4th-14th 1998

Alan America and Red Rumsey (Vern from Unwound in disguise) musta dated this shit so that they could be like ‘Hey, all you sloppy electroclash bands! We did this shit way before you, and way better!’ Fey pop, never analogue in feel, with reliance on any combination of: fuzzed-out guitar, totally over-the-top synth, effects-laden vocals and/or the distinctive propulsion of Vern’s basslines. More than a curiosity.

Long Winters- When I Pretend To Fall

The Long Winters are my dear friend Shelly’s favorite band- both she and the act are livin’ out in Seattle. Her endorsement is good enough for me, so I picked this one up.

The half of the album that is like slowed-down ballads kinda reminds me of a more whiney and jangly American Music Club, which I’m all set with. I lent this disc to BQ, and he started referring to the band as ‘The Long Goodbye,’ which is an apt phrase to describe the crooning songs- just waiting for that shit to end. The other half, though, is this perfect pop music.

John Roderick is an amazingly clever lyricist who plays with his words, phrasings and cadence to fit these fractured but still sweet sentiments into lushly arranged songs that sound like British Invasion-era Hollies, with clear nods to psychedelia in their sound and on the album’s artwork. The dull stuff is dull, but the intertwining guitar lines that unexpectedly converge into amazing choruses and the aforementioned vocal stylings totally outweigh the boring shit- that’s what the ‘next’ button is for- and Shelly is officially batting a thousand. MVP! MVP!

Los Crudos- Discography

Los Crudos era esta venda insana fuera de Chicago que jugó este hardcore que ampollaba en español, centrándose en ediciones de la comunidad. He conseguido viejo, conjeturo, y apenas no cavo el hardcore tanto como utilicé allí haber sido algunos expedientes que he escuchado durante el maratón adonde he venido a la derecha hacia fuera y admitido que no lo consigo pero estos individuos me ganaran encima con su pasión y energía. Y era realmente diversión que miraba todos los crusties en sus demostraciones que cantaban adelante en este español del ra'pido-fuego que incluso mi pensamiento de habla hispana de los amigos era unintelligble- demasiado rápido.

Low- I Could Live In Hope

In college, I was friends with this girl who had a shaved head and kinda looked like Ani DiFranco- I called her Skinhead Kris. I associate her with this record because at the time that we were friends, I always seemed to be playing some really mopey shit when we were hanging out. The day I bought this record, specifically, I also picked up a Red House Painters disc, leading her to ask me if I ever listened to anything upbeat. I gave her a few of my Converge CD’s in response (which, now that I think about it, she still has! Hey, Kris! How have you been? I hope everything’s well! I want my CD’s back!)

Anyway, Low’s deal is that they play as quietly and slowly as they can. They’ve got very pretty, haunting fe/male vocals which intertwine and work around the basslines, with guitars that take up the slack/space provided by the rhythm section- subtle lines in the background that add to the general tone of moody spookiness.

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