My love for the band White Lies is as flexible as it is girthy. While my girth keeps me in the hole I want to be in (the White Lies hole bro), my flexibility allows me to reach said hole when it happens to be in a slightly different spot or elevation than I am used to.
My White Lies hole is my standard for music that contains a high inspirational value, while being delivered in an impossibly calm rock and roll manner. It's almost the juxtaposition of AAAAAAAAHHHHH INSPIRATIONAL POST ROCK INSTRUMENTALS and the calm insertions of a sort of spoken-sung bellow that makes me pay attention, mock the playing of said instrumentalz, and then tell everyone I fucking can about how mmmmmhmmmmmm this shit makes me feel.
Bands that sound like Roman Remains tend to straddle that thick line between something I can obsess over and something I can emphatically declare my hatred for. While electronic music itself is pretty straightforward, female vocals are a tricky bird for me. It's so easy to hate it when the vocals don't complement the beats in a manner befitting the awesome.
Sometimes the vocals are so distractingly obnoxious no fucking beat in the world can reel me into its attempted grandeur. Sometimes the beat itself is titties and the vocals by themselves are titties, but together they're four titties instead of just two succulent titties, and they're vying for who is the better pair of titties. Sometimes the shit is just...
Psalm One was probably the first rapper I listened to in college that I loved so much that I had to reach out and tell her. I wasn't even writing for anything yet and I wanted to sit and talk with her about nothing inparticular.
About three months after graduating college I ended up writing a regular music section for a local graffiti mag, which lead to a handful of other hip hop magazine gigs in Chicago, and when given the green light to start stalking rappers, the first person I "interviewed"? MUTHAFuckIN PSALM ONE.
I love her. I've always loved her. I know that when I see her, wherever I see her, I get a huge mothaFuckin hug and a smile the size of the Chicago skyline.
The new video she just dropped for The Responsibility is fast, fun, and over a fucking J-Zone track. AND J-ZONE IS TOO ADORABLE TO NOT BE A BANGER CREATOR HUH.
Go love Kizzy.
I love this fucking band. Bombay Bicycle Club has already delivered me one of my favorite albums of the year in So Long, See You Tomorrow, but now they just gingerly toss another cherry on the top of an already balls ass motherfucking year.
This video for Feel is like putting cold pudding on your chaffed groin skin after a long day at a festival walking through matted dry grass and smelling patchouli and debit card receipt paper.
Plus, this video LOOKS how it SOUNDS in my HEAD. LOOK SOUNDS HEAD IS HELL YES.
BBC Website: http://bombaybicycleclubmusic.com/
BBC Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bombaybicycleclub
BBC Twitter: https://twitter.com/BombayBicycle
BCC iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/so-long-see-you-tomorrow/id785094313
Raglans have that Brit-shit gristle I fucking love. Horrible dentristry and cloudy skies paired with suspenders, short shorts and fishin' poles a plenty, the new tune Digging Holes is fucking chanty, catchy and is simply fucking fun.
Whenever these dickshits get over to the US, I'm betting their live show would consist of head bobbing, sweat tossing and those times when the lead singer puts his hand out as if asking the crowd to sing along with his aforementioned chanty catchy fun shit.
Raglans are fucking awesome. Digging Holes is fucking awesome.