The category is already tilted: I haven’t listened to much albums from November or December, yet here sits the writer handwringing about which album is his favourite of the year. No less letting them marinate in the barbecue pit of my mind or researching the list of top albums he missed from last year only […]
Don’t think so? Here’s some advice, read the article and just let it happen.
Melina Duterte’s latest project Anak Ko, is a good goddamn LP.
Yet, I’d been pretty dead-set on the merits of King Gizzard’s Fishing with Fishies as a prime example of Zeppelin’s and T.Rex’s influence in rock, since my late-April train ride from Pau back to Lannemezan. Fuck that noise; Stu Mackenzie, Ambrose Kenny-Smith, Joey Walker, Cook Craig, Lucas Skinner, Michael Cavanagh and Eric Moore have one more artist up their sleeve, not exactly a sonic influence, but a kindred influence.
I’m not mad these Perthans open And Now For the Whatchamacallit with a brand of music one level-up from Post Animal’s brodown surf-party interpretation—the sound is just too within my tastes for me to absolutely hate it
Self-love is my greatest struggle, by virtue of an extreme aversion to any patterned pitfalls of narcissistic behavior that, inevitably, a person will fall into, but an imbalance on the bell curve of the spectrum meets at the point of insidiousness: believe too strongly in yourself and risk perspective, criticize yourself too thoroughly and risk pleasure.
From the horses jowls, judge, I damn well hurd Orville Peck neigh and burr it himself, I swears on it!: “Psychedelic outlaw cowboy croons love and loss from the badlands of North America.”
