Marc
On Cursive's New Full Length, The Ugly Organ, and Sitting Around All Day Watching Football: The New England Patriots remind me of Cursive, and vice versa. You count them out, both of them, time and again, and they always seem to comeback to suprise you, right? For example, Tim Kasher (Cursive's lead vocalist) suffers a collapsed (fucking!) lung this past summer, and forces the rest of the band to cancel a tour on the heels of a stellar split release with some band from Japan called Eastern Youth. Down for the count, right? New England, after winning the (fucking!) Super Bowl last year, can't seem to find their "A" Game in a barrell full of dead babies all season long, yet somehow manage to pull their heads out of their asses to score a win over the would-be AFC East Division Champs, the Miami Dolphins, thus pretty much assuring themselves a playoff bid this year, and possibly even the Divisional title to boot.
Cursive plays a show this past fall in Chicago at the Fireside and, while obviously drunk, they debut some of the new material, and, to be frank, it (fucking!) blew. It was awkward and off-key and out of time for the most part, but they played on and on. And that was it. I wrote them off, saying, "Well, I never liked their earlier stuff anyways, so this must mean that they were just faking it over the past three releases or so ... I give up. I'll just take Domestica and the two eps and glide quietly off into the night."
And you know what else? Tom Brady started wearing (fucking?) gloves for some reason. Why? What kind of quarterback throws with gloves on? You're supposed to touch the ball, Tommy. Bare hand to bare leather. Throw. Win. End of story. So I wrote the New England Patriots off, too.
Yet last night I was able to obtain a copy of the newest Cursive album, The Ugly Organ, brought it out into the living room for a listen while I sat a spell and played Euchre with some of the nearest and dearest, and was quite suprised to find that, yes, some of the stuff was a bit different, yet at the same time, it was damn good, too. That song, "A Gentleman Caller", no matter who they ripped off with the "doo do's" at the end, just completely fucking rules. "Driftwood", at least at the very beginning, sounds like a Modest Mouse song with the double over-dubbed vocals, and the, "here we are, drinking Coca-Coca-Cola" type rhytmic stylings. Yet, it's good, too. What's the greatest addition? The cello. My my my. The cello is bright and crisp and clean, and every bit as powerful as it was on the Eastern Youth split opener, "Excerpts From Various Notes Strewn About the Room". Shit, on "Some Red Handed Slight of Hand" that chick starts shredding on 32nd notes for about five or six seconds, and my jaw dropped. I lost the hand at Euchre, too, cause I didn't have a single trump card. I called a Farmer's Hand, replaced my three 9's for two 10's and another 9. I've got the worst luck.
But the New England Patriots don't. They're down and out this afternoon, right? They're losing by fourteen points, late in the game, and somehow miraculously score all fourteen unanswered points to tie the game with just barely over two minutes to go. In overtime they kick a (close) forty-some yarder to win, and they're on their way to the playoffs. Whoopee. The new Cursive's good. The Patriots are actually going to have another shot at the Super Bowl, and the Chicago Bears are going to get a real choice draft pick if they intentionally blow this game tonight. My day got brighter and brighter the longer it's gone on. Now, if I could just get Crapface to stop sleeping on my pillow in the afternoons, thus causing me to sneeze all night, I'll be set for the next few months.
Bring on the underdogs.
On Cursive's New Full Length, The Ugly Organ, and Sitting Around All Day Watching Football: The New England Patriots remind me of Cursive, and vice versa. You count them out, both of them, time and again, and they always seem to comeback to suprise you, right? For example, Tim Kasher (Cursive's lead vocalist) suffers a collapsed (fucking!) lung this past summer, and forces the rest of the band to cancel a tour on the heels of a stellar split release with some band from Japan called Eastern Youth. Down for the count, right? New England, after winning the (fucking!) Super Bowl last year, can't seem to find their "A" Game in a barrell full of dead babies all season long, yet somehow manage to pull their heads out of their asses to score a win over the would-be AFC East Division Champs, the Miami Dolphins, thus pretty much assuring themselves a playoff bid this year, and possibly even the Divisional title to boot.
Cursive plays a show this past fall in Chicago at the Fireside and, while obviously drunk, they debut some of the new material, and, to be frank, it (fucking!) blew. It was awkward and off-key and out of time for the most part, but they played on and on. And that was it. I wrote them off, saying, "Well, I never liked their earlier stuff anyways, so this must mean that they were just faking it over the past three releases or so ... I give up. I'll just take Domestica and the two eps and glide quietly off into the night."
And you know what else? Tom Brady started wearing (fucking?) gloves for some reason. Why? What kind of quarterback throws with gloves on? You're supposed to touch the ball, Tommy. Bare hand to bare leather. Throw. Win. End of story. So I wrote the New England Patriots off, too.
Yet last night I was able to obtain a copy of the newest Cursive album, The Ugly Organ, brought it out into the living room for a listen while I sat a spell and played Euchre with some of the nearest and dearest, and was quite suprised to find that, yes, some of the stuff was a bit different, yet at the same time, it was damn good, too. That song, "A Gentleman Caller", no matter who they ripped off with the "doo do's" at the end, just completely fucking rules. "Driftwood", at least at the very beginning, sounds like a Modest Mouse song with the double over-dubbed vocals, and the, "here we are, drinking Coca-Coca-Cola" type rhytmic stylings. Yet, it's good, too. What's the greatest addition? The cello. My my my. The cello is bright and crisp and clean, and every bit as powerful as it was on the Eastern Youth split opener, "Excerpts From Various Notes Strewn About the Room". Shit, on "Some Red Handed Slight of Hand" that chick starts shredding on 32nd notes for about five or six seconds, and my jaw dropped. I lost the hand at Euchre, too, cause I didn't have a single trump card. I called a Farmer's Hand, replaced my three 9's for two 10's and another 9. I've got the worst luck.
But the New England Patriots don't. They're down and out this afternoon, right? They're losing by fourteen points, late in the game, and somehow miraculously score all fourteen unanswered points to tie the game with just barely over two minutes to go. In overtime they kick a (close) forty-some yarder to win, and they're on their way to the playoffs. Whoopee. The new Cursive's good. The Patriots are actually going to have another shot at the Super Bowl, and the Chicago Bears are going to get a real choice draft pick if they intentionally blow this game tonight. My day got brighter and brighter the longer it's gone on. Now, if I could just get Crapface to stop sleeping on my pillow in the afternoons, thus causing me to sneeze all night, I'll be set for the next few months.
Bring on the underdogs.
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