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LITERATURE

 » Full Dark, No Stars - Stephen King's new novella questions mankind's ability to trust others.
[02.21.2011 by Bridget Doyle]

MUSIC

 » The Top 30 Albums of 2010 - Fashionably, fabulously late, our favorite music (and believe me, there was a LOT) of 2010, the year that some have called the best year for music ever. And only some of those fools work here. Plenty of usual suspects, lots of ties and a few surprises that I won't spoil, including our unexpected #1.
[12.24.2010 by The LAS Staff]

MUSIC

 » Live: Surfer Blood/The Drums at Lincoln Hall, Chicago, IL - Remember when Weezer used to put together records that you could sing along to and rock out to? That's what Surfer Blood's show was like!
[11.04.2010 by Cory Tendering]

Music Reviews

Screaming Females - Castle Talk
»Screaming Females
Castle Talk
Don Giovanni
Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross - The Social Network [Original Soundtrack]
»Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross
The Social Network [Original Soundtrack]
The Null Corporation
Deerhunter - Halcyon Digest
»Deerhunter
Halcyon Digest
4AD
No Age - Everything in Between
»No Age
Everything in Between
Sub Pop
Robyn - Body Talk Pt. 1/ Body Talk Pt. 2
»Robyn
Body Talk Pt. 1/ Body Talk Pt. 2
Konichiwa
The Walkmen - Lisbon
»The Walkmen
Lisbon
Fat Possum
Boxing
Way Down East
RBCA Records

Rating: NR/10 ?


October 1, 2004
Let me hit that, pig fucker, You see, quite like Ween in some respects, it would appear that the guys in Boxing only backed up off the hits on the Scotch guard bongs long enough to make the songs toward the end of the record actually have some sort of structure, and then again later to do overdubs on everything. Who is that playing outside, at this hour, New Jersey, fuck Jersey, Canada, wailing like a Bob Dylan Delta Bluesman. Whoah that harmonica is trying to eat my face. The vocals are uniformly awful, and provide some sort of attraction as such, while the harmonies are often, well, not in harmony. I can picture someone's head popping up in the middle of a line that ran from some where near that hookers inner thigh to roughly the area near her ass and going "dude, we can fuck this shit up now and totally fix it in the mastering stage," which, seems to be what was done. Let's check my portfolio, you know why they call it a horn? Because you only listened to punk rock once, spaghetti, spaghetti western, spaghetti with meatballs, are you hungry? Wildcat... Wildcat. Sometimes there are guitars, acoustic and electric, playing fairly standard figures, occasionally there is some piano, and quite often there is some percussion. The occasional slide part comes in; Girls can do strange things to a man's ego; other times there is just some found sound lost somewhere in the mushroom cloud of pot smoke. Sometimes you just have to sing it. like Walking through a forest, politics are only handled well by drunk poets, classically trained to cock rock your Bach socks off.

So, um, yeah, do you understand Boxing now? Me neither. ride the ditch tide. It's either fucking brilliant, or insanely terrible, and odd as it may be, the more peculiar elements are in retrospect a much bigger success than the moments where structure, melody, rhythm and the like are held to relative pop uniformity. There is a lot that can be said for doing drugs. Ooohh, la, la, la. I find myself often wishing more musicians did, that way a least I wouldn't get so many generic discs piled up on my desk. I wonder what kind of record a typical tight-shirted emo boy - the local legend, the hero of the hometown scene - would make after a couple of good hits of liquid acid? Got to find a way to make the squiggly bigger. On the other hand, these guys probably never even inhaled marijuana second hand, either way I fell in a pool once and there was an organ down there at the bottom and the scuba diver playing it was chained to the concrete floor and he took his mask off long enough to tell me that if I acted now I would instantly be entered in a raffle in which I could win a bonus grand prize, but then I just fell asleep. Can we make damn that noise stop?

Reviewed by Mark Skipper
Mark Skipper currently resides in Nashville, TN where he can be found skipping shows, drinking Guinness, making bad home recordings, and complaining about how much music sucks these days.

See other reviews by Mark Skipper

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