ITT

holy shit are you christgau in secret?

“Death is real/Someone's there and then they're not/And it's not for singing about/It's not for making into art/When real death enters the house/all poetry is dumb”--no, I can't go on. I mean, why so glum, chum? Cheer up; look on the bright side. You got your daughter, right? And your analog recording equipment, bet you'll have fun with that. Believe me, kid, it will pass. C

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>A Crow Looked at Me [P.W. Elverum & Sun, 2017]
>It's essential and not all that difficult to distinguish the persona who sings the song from the person who created both the song and the persona. And then there's this, which begins with a very biographical version of gently depressive Puget Sounder Phil Elverum shakily observing: "Death is real / Someone's there and then they're not / and it's not for singing about / It's not for making into art." The someone is Elverum's wife of 13 years, ghosted away from her sickroom by cancer exactly a week before the song was recorded. It's so spare and bleak that it took me a lot longer than a week to notice that Elverum had laid a forthrightly bassy thrum underneath his finger-brushed acoustic guitar, arting death up after all. But what choice did he have if he hoped to expiate the grief that consumed him? And given that, what can it mean when he ends the same song: "I don't want to learn anything from this. I love you." Such autobiographical conundrums are one of this album's achievements whether Elverum is in control of them or not. But they're obliterated by the immediacy and detail of his loss, of his living yet inexorably transmuting love for his dead wife, of their living baby daughter, of the modest domestic arrangements he can hardly bear to recall. Brutal to listen to for all its quiet. Like nothing I've ever heard. A

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Huh, that’s surprising. He usually hates depressing stuff.

Lol

I went shopping in a tiny market on this weird fucking island in Japan once. The guy selling me fish got punched in the face by me. I continued on my way oblivious to the shocked faces surrounding me, lighting up a Kensington Science Museum. The hotel was a three star. C+

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Car-di!
A+

kek

But what's the grade?

>The Seer [Young God Records, 2012]
>I called my wife a space cunt and now she has a boyfriend. Thanks, Michael.
>D-

>An important album, but basically a totem that was retroactively co-opted by hipsters desperate to find some alternative wacky band to seem hip in comparison to their mainstream Beatles loving peers. The production is pure Phil Spector, but if you're gonna steal you gotta steal from the best. The arrangements are pleasing, but largely fashioned by and for classical dilettantes. The whole tone of the album is so tainted by self pitying white upper class ennui that it's hard to relate to if any of those descriptors don't apply to you and you have bigger problems than feeling like you were born in the wrong year.
>B-

I don't actually think these things for the record, but it seems like Christgau's writing style

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>Dylan has never struck me as a genius, and he probably hasn't quite reached the level of ego necessary to think he's a genius. Rather, his success is attributable to the fact that his brain produces fantastic drug-induced word salads that are unmatched in terms of sophistication by any of his peers. The venom in Like a Rolling Stone is apparent, but I defy anyone to tell me what the fucking song is actually about.
>A-

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Based

Desolation Row is tied with Hurricane in my opinion for Dylan's best song. Its a great album in general.

Too many god damn words. D+

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Holy shit, please make more

Harmonic.
B-