Though I am indeed big into The Orb – I’ll be at the Friday show in July at the Music Hall of Williamsburg – the genre “chill out” is generally just fucking terrible. The name is an awful anachronism – though it was once a utilitarian description, a serene contrast for weary riders as the serotonin train pulled into backwash station.
Somewhere along the way it became shitty hip-hop with no bite. The music is even worse than the name, if you count the offenders against the few worth picking from the wreckage. Thievery Corporation? Filla Brazilla?
Jesus Tittyfucking Christ, MD.
Anyway, I have not come just to dump on bad music but to praise the presumably defunct Charles Atlas. Elegant, relaxing, beautiful. Oh, to send these gentlemen back in time to fix up the weary acid causaulties of the boom-boom era! Can you imagine how fucking chilled they’d be? Being British, they’d say things like “Brilliant!” and “This is right ace, mates.” But their appreciation would be clear.
And who could not appreciate this? Even if you’re not hugging the record to your chest and sinking to your knees, overwhelmed at just how dreamy they are…
Anyway, if you like your post rock to have indie curls and run at half-speed and enjoy shimmering beauty and triumphant peace, then check this shit out. Particularly this album, their last full-length. And especially particularly “Neither/Nor”; Labradford-era Kranky style instrumentation without any frills or weird electronics buzzing in the background.
Right ace all the way home.
here there be rodents 