Nostalgia is for numbskulls, and I’m not numb. But on the eve of an end, I have a brain, and a heart, and both believe good when it comes around. or passes us by.
What are you talking about, jezebel? about digging through winamp (or is that tweeting in Word or?! ) and there sits aKING's debut, unplayed since that unsexy second album came out and my bottom lip with it. what the hell, I think, it’s been a while. PLAY.
In seconds, singing along. (the mittens think i'm mad)
I hate to be a royal pain in the ass, now, and dredge up the silky, silty past (no, it’s just the lagoon sand between my toes), but I regret the loss. Of dutch courage. Of awkwardly awesome harmonies (hunter?). of rambunctious, restless basslines and bloody buildups clotted with chugging chords all overseen by the oversights of pithy pop rock… there’s hope for a third time lucky, but in the meantime I’m waiting in vain.
Tide comes in. tide goes out.
Begin again.
[but you know, i'm not against change. maybe the second album was part of a morph - an eventual evolution (she hopes, she prays). i believe there's a long locked hillbilly in sneakers just dying to get out from under laudo's straw sun hat...nu country doesn't sound all that bad when you're reading books like My Traitor's Heart(malan) and Ways Of Staying (bloom)]
are we gonna be saved?
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