I remember when people used to advance the ridiculous claim that DJs served a shamanistic purpose in “rave culture” because, like, dOOd, the DJ is totally, like, making everyone sway to a thing that’s not flesh or bone man, but of the spirit.
Now, this album deserves better than that. It’s a classic. A masterpiece. Ambient-techno-dub-drone – NAY! Electronica! That’s the sort of place it was born into, and I guess you had to be there. I wasn’t really there in the flesh, but I certainly picked at the corpse. Continue reading
Alright, I don’t care for musical theatre, but there’s a place in my heart for the didactic and theatrical. Music isn’t rational, nor should it be – a dreadful world of formalism is yours for the taking, if you desire. Phooey upon that, sez I; give me a woman who sings about soul-crushing lonliness in the context of early morning masturbating with a voice that snarls and whispers and tweets so sweetly that you cannot help but fall in love just a tiny little bit.
Nothing wrong with a little hateful beauty now and then, and I have made a mental note to never, ever, ever cross singer Amanda Palmer, even if only in her imagination. Continue reading