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 […]
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
It should be stated: this is my favourite record Plant’s ever signed his name to.
“I was this close,” I said, suddenly, interrupting my own train of thought, raising two hands with about of foot of air between them, “to finishing an outline on the damn thing.” But then I thought, if Eskimo Joe only needed deliver halfway on this Girl, then that hands me carte blanche on how to review the damn thing.
There’s a similar sentiment every time I put Patterns on as Fowler’s voice picks up on “For Me,” while singing the penultimate verse: she’s right, like all good old friends are.
With The Spark everything changes. Each time I feel like I have listened to a band who grew up in the same area as me. The same stomping grounds as I. Over 12 tracks, Sol Seed dials me into my Oregon roots and the many musical experiences of my life.