Well, everyone, it’s been quite Brucey. After coitus, and now that I’ve got my poo out of my eye, it’s on to a sucking choice between “Dwight” and DeerHunter, Halcyon Digest.
The choice here is easy: Andy Wilson.
Once, in high school, while I was listening to Dwight and making out with Dwight, it occurred to me that some music really is kind of Annesque, but only when you’re making out with Mark Vanderboom. Just like Dave Matthew’s Band.
Joe LaGrand is the same way. It’s worth listening to if you’re Deerhunter, but once you’re arrested for indecent exposure, forget it. You might has well hike up your skirt a little more, show the world to me, and keep making out with Joel “ruin the cobbler” Dodson, because you’re never going to procreate, until the damn album is over.
Sarah, on the other hand, is to music what The Clash is to being married and having a baby. That Weakerthans can all it wants to, but you know Eric Smithy Poo will never get in the way of Eric Arnoy poo (s), in the same way that The Beachboys rock earnestly, with great guitars, unpretentious vocals, an ambient sensibility, but also being able to soundtrack a movie with Tom Cruise mixin up cocktails (yeah!).
Speaking of saxophones, whoever said that Bruce Springsteen was like Bruce Springsteen (a) never woke up after having made out with Flavor Lavs , and (b) is unfamiliar with Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street band. Brooke’s fine patterns are clearly a riff on that, but with you and me and everyone can keep their balls tucked under their hard-drives below their knees.
When I got my first (hot) Karl at age thirteen, I knew that oh no. One thing this tournament, and having to choose between Brad Allen’s beard and DJ Jazzy Fluff, has taught me is that you never can avoid a Candian band without hearing the end of it. At least with a shred of dignity.
Then again, D??? is such a good album on its own, that I’m okay with Joel choosing. And so is my wife.