Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Well, this is my 100th post. huzzah.
Anyhow lets get back to the crux of the music here. I recently found my old copies of Black Eyes self-titled and "Cough" Black Eyes were an awesome post-hardcore band on Dischord that Mother nature herself prevented me from seeing. Q And Not U was all like "we'll play at your school" and Black Eyes was touring with them and everyone got psyched because it had been a good year for music at University of Mary Washington (Rilo Kiley, Schatzi, Denali [actually they sucked]), but damn!!!!!!! it snowed. Of course I had many a time to see Q and Not U in the following years (as they became one of my fave bands) but Black Eyes eluded me and eventually essploded into a mess of instruments; the players shed from their musical coils and into record labels and perhaps even (shudder) retail jobs.
No matter. They made some yummy music in their time.
This is Pack of Wolves from their self titled debut on Dischord. Sometimes listening to it kind of feels like swallowing a full grown undeclawed cat, but you'll get over it once the digestive juices kick in. They've got two drum sets, two basses, two singers and they're joined at the hip by one guitar.
See what I mean? Pack of Wolves is a big fucking shrilly mess and its great.
I mean, they're not exactly Engelbert Humperdinck which is a crime. I mean it should be a crime that everybody is not Engelbert Humperdinck. Heh, Humperdinck.
Black Eyes, like I said, essploded into a gigantic mess right before their second and final album called "Cough" which is a combination of seventies no-wave, free-jazz, post-hardcore and noise. What a mess. I rushed out to buy this album at the local (and now essploded as well) independent record store in Fredericksburg,VA. I made sure to listen first and was so perturbed and disgusted by Black Eyes' new sound that I listened to the whole album. Sitting there amidst the Pavement, Bjork and Sonic Youth posters and kitschy seventies Humperdinck lamps I heard an album so distraught with a bands collapse that I consciously thought to myself "Self! this album is a level above you. You're not ready for it yet." (I wish I had that kind of foresight when I tried to read Chaucer again the other night).
Well I don't know what has happened to me since then. Perhaps I got bored of how music sounds and started expanding the borders of my musical country into uncharted territory. My compass has lost its magnetism, my maps tattered scrolls exhumed from the vaults of Wikipedia, my metaphorical supplies running low. Perhaps I've bathed my veynes in swich licour a little too much, because now I feel comfortable in territories I was uncomfortable in some time ago. Maybe I feel comfortable in a band clapping and screaming into a microphone, sliding their guitars up and around and down through the pits of aural heck, and calling that a song.
Regardless, here is "drums" arguably the most songy of the songs on "Cough" by Black Eyes.
Of course, I prefer Fathers of Daughters for its visceral slap to the face and samba whistles? Yes, it hurts so beautiful. but for some reason I can't get imeem to accept it so I'll just post Eternal Life instead. Another crushing blow to melody.
anyway, pick up a copy at Dischord
also make sure to check out the stycast for six degrees #6 which is going up on Wednesday around two or three.