2nd Thoughts Dept.: OK, I shouldn’t ought to have been so harsh & reductive talking about MBV wannabes the other day. That wasn’t nice. I mean, I have a deep & abiding affection for that kind of dense, distortion-slash-reverb guitar Noise. It’s nice to find it wherever it can be found. e.g., I was listening to No Age this a.m. in the car. It was loud & it was luscious & it made me very happy.
This kind of music is, for me on a good day, downright liturgical. It’s transcendent, it’s transcendental. Uh, it takes me outside of myself. To where my brain can finally shut the fuck up & there is only Sensory Experience. Like floating in the warm ocean at night & it’s nothing but the stars, the stars.
Heh. OK, so I’m exaggerating a little. I mean, I still managed to keep on driving & all during my own personal little rapture there. So. But anyway, there is a certain mode of music-making that (for me personally) is the alchemical real deal, the metamorphic whole greater than the sum of its parts. There are a lot of practitioners in this mode, particularly along the ostensible “rock” end of the musical spectrum. (Not to give short shrift to the more “serious” composers like Glenn Branca, La Monte Young --badass motherfuckers in their own right.) I tend to think they’re all chasing sort of the same thing, something that is elusive, not at all easy to define. Something transformative. It’s like there’s a point of stillness somewhere inside of the chaos, the noise.
I can’t ever seem to explain why this kind of thing makes me so damn happy, but it really really does.
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