Tag Archives: rock

Tuesday 05/16 2017
The Effective Narcissism of Chuck Klosterman

“Klosterman’s essays matter, because—despite focusing on a bunch of middle-aged-white-guy-things—their content tackles well-known subjects. These are not meditations on obscure punk records; these are treatises on KISS, for fuck’s sake. It’s like pulling David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster from a black backpack covered in Toy Machine patches and poorly rendered Sharpie doodles. Klosterman pulls the literary equivalent of Jeff Koons’ art—validating your love of something with nary a pat on the head in sight.”

Read the rest of my essay on Klosterman’s new book, X, in Paste

Monday 07/6 2015
A Simulacrum Sunset

“There’s an unmistakeable vibe on Active Child’s Mercy – insouciant and imperious, with Pat Grossi singing in a rich Michael McDonald-esque upper register over shimmering plastic guitars.  The group began as a solemn project, a choirboy playing harp and singing in a feather-delicate voice over clicks, but as the project has drifted, Grossi has explored more escapist sounds. Mercy, surprisingly, feels like the soundtrack to a beach that is never too far away, so the taste of salt is still on your tongue.  It sounds like…yacht rock.”

Read the rest of the review of Active Child’s Mercy at Pitchfork

Tuesday 09/23 2014
All This That Is Ours

alt-J could be considered something of a lit rock band; their sound is both maximalist and expansive, obviously cognizant of the importance of aesthetic, and, at first blush, all of the usual barriers of entry with which the cognoscenti cartels keep out the hoi polloi seem to have been erected. There is the preponderance of piano and the trembling of little alien sounding strings, a distinct lack of percussion or a glitchy, stuttering, seemingly intractable spine which would be impossible to remove unless one wants to listen to a quivering, opalescent jellyfish.”

Read the rest of my review of alt-J’s This Is All Yours at The Line of Best Fit

Wednesday 05/21 2014
White Light/Heavy Heat

“The problem lies in my dispassion for the Hermetic; I do not care, as so many guitar worshippers do, to gather the disparate threadbare strings of the various genres and sub genres and supremely archaic, one-vinyl-printing-ever-in-a-Lower-East-Side-flop-house, heroin-powder-in-the grooves, endlessly influential yet seldom heard (the fuck?) LP and follow them, as Theseus did, out of the Labyrinth; I would rather dance in the sunshine and salted Mediterranean air, never darkening the entry way of Daedalus’ convolution to begin with, and if that causes the six string slurpers, didactics, crusty Brahmins, and genuflectors gathered at the base of the Rock to believe me a Cretan, then so be it.”

Read the rest of my review of The Velvet Underground’s White Light/White Heat [Deluxe Edition] at The Line of Best Fit