I'm uptight about scant few things, but I like me my albums-as-documents. No singles, no fucking around with mixes, no bonus tracks, no resequences, no George Lucas horseshit at all. We know the time by its artifacts and can't that be sancrofuckingsanct?
So the whole scam around this album has me rageblind. I believe for exactly zero beats that this "lost" "1978" album was "discovered" in 2004. Balloon boy, twerking girl catches fire, +1000 youtube videos of similar ilk - I have a bullshit detector that goes off seldom and is never wrong and its going off like crazy on this shit. This is exploiting our desire to go "you'll never believe this thing I found!" about something that came out in 1978, when we might just go "hey this is a pretty dope album" if it just came out in 2004.
That's what pisses me off; it got greedy. This is actually a solid album, but I'm here to hear about the music of 1978, or failing that, the music of 2004. I'm pretty sure the lesson I got was in The Music Scene of 2004: Douchebaggery Of.
Couldn't I just listen to a pretty cool, dark, minimal, DFA-esque little rumbler, mysterious and slinky and patient and strange? Full of ominous, inky energy?
But no, that just wasn't enough for yall though was it? You couldn't stand to be retro so you reconned yourself into being there on the ground floor. I call bullshit. Also fuck you with that cover art. This is hipster horseshit dumped all over the music itself. You guys are fucking traitors.
And I want to commit to this screed, but even now doubt creeps in. No Regrets, it makes me want to believe.
Maybe it's the world I hate: one where even if its not a lie, its reasonable to assume it is - because everything great is a scam, everything too good to be true -- usually is. Usually enough that, on the balance, belief is folly.
Thoroughly unsatisfied, deeply grumpy. Maybe its not 1978 or 2004 I hate, its 2016
3.5/5
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