Outer Peace is not so much a record as a thirty minute DJ set—nothing makes it past four minutes, everything ephemeral, a slinking sleuthing swirling spinning series of singles that lock together like a jigsaw puzzle yet flow like a stutter-step butterfly flight.
There is no riddle as to why Warpaint—a good band—has made more clunky records together than not.
You may be asking why the hell it took all the way until February to sort this one out. Well, the same reason the Oscars, the Grammies or the Super Bowl need take place in February: "just 'cuz."
The monthly release date buffet is back! A month's recap of all the new music I've listened to!
Warpaint too is paradoxical; the perception that their punk-sound would involve appropriations of downtrodden machismo and backlogged confidence bursting out of the inseams of a dreg’s pants, is antiquated.
You have no idea how ready I was to destroy this record.
MassEducation by St. Vincent Review “But if they only knew the real version of me Only you know the secrets, the swamp, and the fear What happened to blood? Our family? Annie, how could you do this to me?” -“Happy Birthday, Johnny” How the fuck did this happen? How could nothing but a piano and a voice take a record this far? How could such a spur-of-the-moment concept be so flawless? How could such a world abuzz with post-satire rock …