“This is what I mean about a feeling of guilt if I try to write something negative here. No one likes the kid at the party who doesn’t dance to anything because it’s too poppy. Once upon a time, when I was doing interviews for Etcetera, we’d filled up positions, but someone wrote in asking to do music reviews. I wanted to fuck him around a little, so I asked for 150 words on Lady Gaga’s Just Dance. He sent in something about it being repetitive or bourgeois, or something like that – everyone knows the type. Altronic nutters. So I asked him to write it again, but entirely positive.”
More language games.
I’m not a fan of death-death metal. So I don’t listen to any death-death metal. When it comes to choosing a least favourite song, it’s a problem. I don’t know any of the songs of the genres that I don’t like, so how do I hear them in the first place, in order to later not like them?
Well, exactly.
So I have no choice but to go for something which other people like – it’s not a forceful move in any direction – I aint no musical bitch, I mean to say.
So. A song which seems to have a legitimacy to whatever it does that I don’t get? It was going to be something Vampire Weekend, but a self-described ‘altronic indie Etonian’ I know might murder me in my sleep. And incidentally, altronic doesn’t spell-check – so now I’m pretty sure he made it up completely.
Without further ado…
Animal Collective – My Girls
(Oh, for God’s sake, it’s got more than 4 million views. LIKE BETTER MUSIC WORLD.)
Forget the cover that gives me a headache. Maybe that’s where all of this comes from anyway. I sit here, it on repeat to try and get something out of it. Something to write on. And nothing.
What’s missing here….what’s missing here is for one thing, any sense that these guys are having fun with what they’re doing. Am I a girl for saying that? Probably. This is a wierd mixture of anthemic electronic, shoe-gazing, nods to Arcade Fire who always seem to work in an element of a Village Fair chorus SOMEWHERE on an album, and more and more and more, summing to seemingly naught.
Phew.
I can definitely see why it’s cool. And I’m really happy for them. I have no doubt that when Animal Collective chill collectively as animals on Tracy Island or whatever, they are doing so next to a swimming pool full of heroin and powdered ecstacy tablets, and they’ll have all the animals they can have a merry something with. These things cost money. And they get money from record sales. And no one would ever admit to not liking this. It’s got a cool cover! And synths! And it’s different! And it’s not pop music! And the lyrics. Etcetera.
Actually, attention is due there. The lyrics.
Wibbly-wobbly-wibbly-wobbly-wibbly-wobbily for what, 4 minutes? 5! 5 minutes! Seriously? The vocals… the only words that stand out are Little Girls. Transcribed.
There isn’t much that I feel I need A solid soul and the blood I bleed But with a little girl, and by my spouse, I only want a proper house I don’t care for fancy things Or to take part in the freshest wave, But to provide for mine who ask I will, with heart, on my father’s grave On my father’s grave (On your father’s grave) I don’t mean to seem like I Care about material things, Like a social status, I just want Four walls and adobe slats For my girls
I swear I’m hearing something that’s sampled in a Sleigh Bells song. Well, at least that’s something.
This is what I mean about a feeling of guilt if I try to write something negative here. No one likes the kid at the party who doesn’t dance to anything because it’s too poppy. Once upon a time, when I was doing interviews for Etcetera, we’d filled up positions, but someone wrote in asking to do music reviews. I wanted to fuck him around a little, so I asked for 150 words on Lady Gaga’s Just Dance. He sent in something about it being repetitive or bourgeois, or something like that – everyone knows the type. Altronic nutters. So I asked him to write it again, but entirely positive.
He refused on moral grounds. I mean, really? The taking music too seriously…critiquing things…I’m not sure how I feel about all this. Plenty of people like this strange collective. Good for them. I’m not trying to start fights or something. So how the hell do I even talk about a song I don’t like?
Well, for one thing I say I started listening to Kate Nash after 3 replays. And even now, I can’t remember what the damn thing sounded like. Except something about Little Girls. And that’s the most haunting echo a song has ever left on my mind. I don’t like. I should have stuck to Vampire Weekend. I could have talked about that ****ing riff in A-Punk.
Ah well.
