In Tall Buildings sounds like Matthew Sweet fronting Band of Horses meets Caribou, and then some really fucking cool space aged cell phone is ringing in the background, but you hear them all together and it's just the titties bro.
Seriously tho, the way In Tall Buildings makes everything sound so rustic, yet futuristic is fucking delicious. Futurustic bro. In Tall Buildings is "futurustic".
The acoustic guitar has GPS bro.
Take the evenly calm meter in "Exiled", it's nearly identical in skin feels to hearing some early untitled Band of Horses melody you can hum to yourself in a creaky rocking chair on some porch out in...
I am not familiar with Jilk. But I am more than familiar with Haiku Salut.
Haiku Salut have been sending me instrumental music to skin poultry to for the past few years, and while I'm normally appreciative of their strange sense of beautiful dread in their compositions, today's video is completely different.
"Periscopes" is a playful prance through a backyard playground, in both the video and the song itself, but what's fucking unreal about this entire shits is how I started to get choked up watching the video even before the part where I realized I should totally get choked up.
I won't ruin this video for you, but seriously, this is a Friday afternoon video if there ever was a fucking video to watch on Friday afternoon.
You've kicked ass all week. You wiped your brow only after your eyes were already burning from the sweat that made its way into your ojos. You didn't complain, but you felt like you deserved a glass of whine. You ignored the beauty around you because Fuck you. You don't have time to appreciate anything but a cold beer and an unmade bed. Fuck traffic. Fuck laundry. Fuck having to eat. Fuck personal hygiene.
Then you sit and you fucking watch this.
If this doesn't at least make you crack even the tiniest of grins, you are made of stone bro. Jesus, you must've masturbated during Schindler's List you sick Fuck.
Even before the moment when ALL OF THE TEARS fell from my eye holes, I was happy as Fuck watching this. But at the moment that you will know what the Fuck I mean when ALL OF THE TEARS fell from my eye holes, oh bro bro bro bro bro, I LOST 8oz OF WATER THROUGH MY EYE CHASMS.
Beauty isn't always what you see, what you hear, what you experience; sometimes beauty is watching, hearing and feeling someone else experience it.
This is fucking perfect. Thank you fuckers.
These past few weeks I've been on a JUST GIVE ME THE DAMN ROCK kick.
I've about had it with fucking synths. All of these "producers" pitching their shit as "about to blow" is driving me fucking insane. Don't even get me fucking started on rappers. And since when did sending people teaser-emails with teaser-videos about a fucking SINGLE become the norm in music? RECORD AN EP, DROP AN EP, SELL AN EP, TOUR. That's it bros.
Maybe 2015 is the year we finally realize all of those machines will one day glitch the Fuck out and leave us with nothing but a guitar, a bass, an amp or two, some fucking drums, and a throat.
WHEN THE MAD MAX TYPE LIFE DROPS, ALL THAT'S LEFT WILL BE THE ROCKTH BRUH!
Peep this band Hooka Hey, this fucking song "Nasty" is nothing but bar chord hell yea. All I wanna do is play air guitar and push up my invisible aviator glasses that I'm wearing in the shower and fucking rock-croon bro.
Pretty sure this band falls under the previously mentioned SUAP category in that there is no way these assholes won't just Show Up And Play.
Hooka Hey, you guys are fucking balls.
Kicked in the throat.
Holy fucking jesus balls on a bent and battered badminton shuttlecock, this song HURTS.
Whoever the Fuck David Strange is, you hit me right when I wasn't expecting it and I'm rocking that sinus congestion that only comes about after a good cry, yet I haven't started crying yet, I'm just sitting here dumbfounded with cotton mouth wearing one size too small trunk underwearz.
"Cocaine" might be my favorite song of the day. It's miserable. It's fucking gorgeous. I'm snagging the EP as soon as fucking possible. Let's hope I'm pantsless by the third track yea?
Who the Fuck are The Cunning?
This band sounds like quarter drafts, wooden bowls of mixed nuts, a jukebox so limited it's only stocked with Merle, Cash and Orbison, and a bathroom with a trough pisser. It's everything you fucking need, nothing else.
Out of all the SUAP (show up and play) bands that have graced the pages of SYFFAL, I think The Cunning might be my fucking favorite.
And to think, all day I've been sifting through shitty band submissions and that fucking dirty ass bassline grabbed me by the balls and gave em a slight twist before grazing my puckered green bay packer. You can't Fuck with that fucking bassline.
Here's to obsessing over becoming best friends with these fuckers and becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of wearing boots year round.