Mendelsohn: The other day I was listening to music and thinking about the Bible. Not the fun parts where the world ends or people get smote, but the rather dry part—specifically Chronicles 1, with all the begats and what not. I was thinking about lineage. Tracing lineage can be incredibly boring, because forsooth, I’m not sure why it’s important to know that Abigail childed Amasa. Having said that, I’m going to trace some lineage in hopes of explaining why the Avalanches’ Since I Left You, released in 2000 the Year of Our Lord, was such a critical and commercial success and how exactly a couple of ex-punks from Australia made it happen. I’ll dispense with all the begats and forsooths in favor of terms like turntablism, sampling and plunderphonics. Ah, who am I kidding? Let the begatting begin.
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For a variety of reasons, the need for a feature piece among them, I was going to review the new Lamb of God album this week. Never mind the fact that it doesn’t come out for another two months, or that the band’s American PR is only just starting to get the hype machine rolling; these days, I couldn’t care less about publishing a review before such absurd press announcements as an “album artwork unveiling” and “track listing unleashing”. Besides, no band should ever complain about getting press, especially if the review is positive, so why not hammer out a fun piece about a rare 2015 album that’s captured my attention?
Yeah, I like the new record, VII: Sturm Und Drang. Quite a lot, actually. Given the freedom I have with this weekly column, the urge to sit down and slap together a thousand words about why I enjoy VII: Sturm Und Drang so much is near impossible to resist. It’s the same for any music fan: when you hear great new music, you have to gush, you need to run out and tell people about it. Yet at the same time, as a writer there’s also something stupid, trite, and narcissistic lurking underneath that desire, too: the fleeting satisfaction of being first.
Phlecia and Josh Sullivan are Year of October, creatively and personally (as husband and wife) joined together. Originally from Kentucky, the band has been in Nashville for a few years, touring regionally and self-recording and self-producing their two albums thus far. Year of October is outside of our circle within Nashville; I actually discovered them through Bandcamp.
“Folding corners into perfect shapes / Went forlorn in a vapor of Elysian escapes”
That’s how these lines to “She Takes Me” read in the liner notes of lowercase’s Kill the Lights, at least. Coming out of the singer’s mouth, that second bit resembles something more like “when forlorn pings make hell each escape.” Not a full minute into the album, and already results diverge from intent. It won’t be the last discrepancy between the lyric sheet and the words that are actually sung—that is, if they even come out as words at all.
Mendelsohn: One more spin on the Pink Floyd space shuttle, Klinger. Are you ready? This will be the last go around. As much as I love this band, as large as they loom in my rock psyche, there aren’t too many other albums in their repertoire that I think merit extended examination: maybe Animals, maybe Meddle, maybe even their late-game return with Division Bell. This week will mark the fourth Pink Floyd record we’ve discussed—at number 207 is Wish You Were Here.
Klinger: And given my ambivalence toward Pink Floyd, I’m of two minds as to how to react to this announcement. Part of me wants to thank you, and yet another part of me wants to make you listen to The Final Cut just for making me go through all this so many times.