And yes, I’ve fallen in for it. I watched MCD suck ass in Manhattan because my last time with them was cut short for a friend. I watched Hot Snakes burn Austin a new one because my lady’d never had the pleasure. I bought into Refused because The Shape of Punk to Come is genius and deserves every inch of my cash grab and SWANS because, duh and Medicine even (both of whom ratcheted up an inspired reincarnation) and Archers because I knew they’d play the five songs I never got to hear in the drug/drunk of their latter inception and The Blood Brothers come October because double duh and more I’m sure I’m forgetting and I wish I’d been in SD for Jehu v. THE ORGAN but, JESUS FUCK!, Death from Above?
Fuck that “minimalist” manchild band, man and fuck their smarmy unwillingness to quell a riot (SXSW, 2011) and fuck their expositions on how Americans are so fucking lame for their unwillingness to use the word “nigger” as opposed to Canadians who know better (Club Exit, Brooklyn, 2005) and mostly, if not only, fuck them for turning the rabid potential of bass/drum duo lunacy (Lightning Bolt, Japanther, etc.) and turning it into a lazy Vice cover stitch on 70s cock power deconstructionism.
And yeah, they were fun when they first reared their head and it seemed like a grave blast of grand bullshit would upset the chicanery but that turned quick, didn’t it? And now they’ve got a new record called The Physical World and it sounds just as steadfast and eloquently tame in its upswing as You’re a Woman, I’m a Machine did back in…fuck it.
If this what the world needs now, then I seriously need to consider a stronger habit.