Ah, there. Tie-knot loosened, head a-swim, nerves smoothed and soothed, loafered feet dancing a complicated jig, frigid temperatures giving way to tropical breezes—all that, and you didn't even have to order a drink.
Hooray for the First Amendment and the unalienable rights of scruffy burnouts everywhere to strap on guitars and translate going-nowhere lives into fake Beastie Boys fist-pumpers, but seriously, did indie-rock really need its own destined-to-fail Kid Rock clone?
Separation is supposed to make the heart grow fonder; damned if Black Mold isn't making me pine for the '90s heyday of entropic glitch/IDM, when abruptly beat-spliced sputter-stutter was all the rage and record nerds spoke of Autechre and Aphex Twin in hushed, sacred tones. Now this paradigm is back! Maybe. With convulsing strings! Hmmmm.
This delightfully deluded tune—a fine anthem/rallying cry for paranoid schizophrenics, avowed conspiracy theorists, and Ron Paul voters—demands the full-on WTF "SNL Digital Short" treatment, with cameos from Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd in Back to the Future '80s regalia.
Begins as somewhat obtrusive mood music for an imaginary low-key road movie in which two buddies motor across the Yucatan in winter. Ends when said soundtrack bum-rushes the narrative's fourth wall, inspiring a fierce, drunken Riverdance face-off that wasn't in the script.
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