Feeling pissed and sick? I’m no doomsday prophet or anything but it’s hard to keep your head up when you’re constantly getting shit on. Polling the hand full of friends I still have left on this planet (family doesn’t count in these stats), the general sentiment seems to be, at best despondence, and more frequently, all out hatred of a nihilistic sort. Now, as bleak as I can be, I suppose I have this kind of Yellow Kid ignorance that lets me blissfully float through the mire until I reach my isolation chamber and can hibernate with a few films for the evening. Nevertheless, I experience all of the above feelings simultaneously and that’s why an album like this is something that is cherished rather than risible. The angst isn’t canned like the recent vintage. You can be a dick and force this into a genre and dismiss it with the drop of a pube, but that’s facile and lazy. You don’t have to be Leonard Cohen to write about frustration.
Here (Reup 6/6/12)