Golem - Tanz Does it say more about me or the solvency of Eastern Europe
an bands that my only cultural reference point here is the Eugene Hutz? I wanted to avoid that comparison if possible - violin and lusty yawl notwithstanding, the Roma and klezmer (non-)traditions are probably fairly distinct. Right? Whatever. One more in the bloc of things I don’t get about this band I allegedly grew up 6 hours from, along with the language jokes, the languages, the jokes, and a conceit about a horse. But don’t misunderstand me - I still love this record. Among some of the things I do getz about dez schmoez is their conversant brass section, which in context sounds like Gogol Bordello discovering ska and a political alternative to mysticism at the same time. Sure, bring your Baedeker around if you want - and learn what’s going down these days in Odessa, or why two Jews would hijack a plane to Israel with Super Soakers. Me? I’ll dance apolitically because that’s all I’ll ever be able to do with Tanz. Wait, that’s a lie. I do get one of the jokes. Inspirational Verse Bordering On Sexism The Same Way Crimea Borders Russia: “It’s good to have a little dog, to protect the house. It’s good to have a little cat, to get you a mouse. It’s good to have a little cow, to give you milk and mooooo. But what’s the use, please tell me now, of a girl like you!?”
Letterman has been on point lately with the bands - if you can forget Sean Lennon, and please do quickly... Afghan Whigs, merely good Wednesday, but gimme an Elizabeth Cook Velvets cover any other day, and then these wonderfully-well-named Spanish Gold newbs when that’s over.
Dour PR scheme from everyone’s favorite dour early 00s
art alt rockers. If whatever’s forthcoming isn’t eventually named Conscious Unspooning then Britt Daniel has spent the last four years doing… well, doing precisely what he did 38 out of 39 years before that. Let’s see if they can get disco to kill itself.
¿Par que Quartz? - Sunbathing Animals Jason Gubbels isn’t a classic author (sorry?) but he kinda works like one. A lot of classic authors are assholes, and while Jason isn’t that either (sorry?), you nod along despite yourself when either gets something wrong very right. I don’t think I love Sunbathing Animals because its sprawl is less the ohlookit zoology of Here’s Where The Strings Come In and more the slow wasting cripple of Vee Vee and melanoma. Yes, they’re sufficiently haired, hyped and Texan to keep hipster indie weird well the early 2020’s - but I’m already guessing hindsight won’t be kind. When you’re the only nostalgia train in town, you can go wherever the fuck you want. I wish they’d hit the Pavement running again.