Week 62 |
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The Diskettes s/t |
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"I can't wait till summertime. You can't wait for autumn leaves." Sometimes you need someone to guide you through a record. You need them to pick the right time for you to listen to it. You need them to point out the best moments. You need them to get excited about them, explain its references, tell you stories about how it reminds them of that spring when... "You think it's stupid, but I think it's fun." Well, let me tell you. I'm the wrong person to be introducing you to the Diskettes. What you need is Salvatore shouting "Sunday, Monday, Happy Days!" at you, then asking me to inform you that age and the severe laws of Greek TV have deprived me of the soft introduction to the '60s in America that I deserved, and that, thus, I can't even start to think about the Diskettes since I don't have the appropriate reference points. Or maybe you need Alistair Fitchett telling you the Diskettes are the essential sound of summer, of beaches and picnics; but because I don't get paid to quote reviews or even my friends (you don't get paid at all, remember? -editor) but to write about records I have to say something of my own too. "I can only wait for something special.. and you!" Where should I start from? The Diskettes are naive, but you know I mean this in the best possibly way. They are a boy and a girl, a couple of guitars and a lot of fun, and that's pretty much all they are. Do you see what I mean now? They seem to dream in black and white, in the way things looked on tv the sixties (and the seventies, and most of the eighties where I come from, really.) They also seem to love a lot of music -a whole lot of music- and aspire to sound like it. All of it. "You think it's funny, but I think it's love." Well then. Imagine a boy and a girl with a couple of guitars trying to sound like a sixties girl group and like Jonathan Richman and like some bossa nova singer who's name I wouldn't know and like, I don't know, Beat Happening or Dennis Driscol (someone american and lo-fi as fuck anyway) and ending up sounding like they're singing to each other... and you will have a pretty accurate picture of what the Diskettes sound like. It sounds sweet, doesn't it? Well, go on imagining. Imagine them singing as they walk down the street in the sunset. Imagine them sitting in their dark, getting drunk and singing songs that are halfway between lullabys and love songs. Imagine them catching a bus to a beach, and yes, singing -a song made of sort lines they take turns to sing so it sounds like a conversation. And recording it too. And using it to end their record. "You and I seem to be running out of things to say." And then wrapping said record up in an interesting way and sending it away to look for people who will be its friends. People with discerning taste who will take the time to appreciate the amount of imagination, nerve and love it must have taken to make this record and decide they want to hang out with it for a while. I'd think it would be a clever thing to do.
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we are being observed |
The word that comes to mind when listening to "we are being observed" by Giant Haystacks is "manic". The band has an abundance of energy which is lucky because the album manages to race through 14 songs at remarkable speed and is over almost almost before it has begun. Before you ask though Giant Haystacks is not a 1970s wrestler who wore a blue leotard, who unmasked kendo thingie. Well he is, but not in this case. In this case Giant Haystacks are a threepiece punk rock band from Oakland, CA. Every noise on the CD is made at speed. Each beat is frenetic, guitar riffs are rapid, and vocals spoken hastily. This is not music to fall asleep to, or to hold the hands of the boy you love. This is not music for slow walks in the park, or lazy afternoons in the sun. This however, is exactly the type of music that you'll need when you are out of coffee. Even after a late night and early morning you'll find it impossible to fall asleep listening to this band. Its a cacophony of noise, but done in a way that grabs you by the proverbials. Thier namesake would be proud |
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