Current count of essays waiting to be graded over the next two weeks: 144.
So, you can’t really blame me for yet another post that points you to my newest music review. However, seeing as how I’ll be officially unemployed once the grading finishes, I’ll have plenty of time for blogging! And no money! With a baby on the way! Yay!
Thank you for pretending to ignore the seething monster in the subtext there.
A little on this review: all in all, I didn’t particularly like the music. This poses problems for me because I’ve recently decided that I hate negative reviews that ignore the inevitable humanity behind the music. I’m not saying that just because a band “seems like nice people” that means that I’m entitled to love their music, but in the end, it is ridiculous and presumptuous of me to assume that my two weeks of headphoning will be enough to say yay or . So, I tried to stay fair, but, I’m not going to lie: some snark sneaked in anyway. In fact, I coined the genre name “squeamo,” and for that reason alone, I can’t regret this one. The band is Windsor Airlift, and the album is called Flights. Here’s a nibble:
So, we’ve come again to that brain-damaged mule of a topic that stings our post-rock palate, where words like “quiet,” “loud,” and “dynamic” get strung together in an attempt to say one of two things: this band is doing something new, or, this band is trapped in derivative formulae. Just when it seems we’ve settled the issue, some other band comes along with their raw guitars and skinny fists. Read More