Man, those rabid guitars! So peeved, foaming at the frets, even as "I Might" itself rides this hard-jangle xylophone groove over the edge of sanity, the jump-cut to nowhere. Are Wilco finally entering their Vitalogy phase? We can only hope.
"A Meal Can Be Made"
A doom-metal harridan wanders into a studio, thinking he's going to be cutting some heavy slab of uranium today—but dig this, it's the wrong studio on the wrong day, occupied by a corps of keytar-armed nu-New Wave neophytes. Initially, there's some genre-associated tension, but détente is achieved when both parties bond over a shared taste for reality-accelerating pharmaceuticals.
Man, you should be thanking Clams Casino; Clams Casino just saved you the cost of a plane ticket to Brazil, if not quite the cost of a plate of actual clams casino.
"Dreams Money Can Buy"
Drake's still Drake. Dude continues to sound bored with the very concepts of rap, high-end tail, and nouveau riche extravagance. As such, it's the production that keeps me coming back to "Dreams," this sort of deluded, smog-noir swirl of menace and portent that's Imperial Bedrooms sinister in a way its host will never quite be.
"Round Your Way"
I fear I'm several years past the age where hangover mash-note pop leaves much of an impression, where there's much of a point to lovesick ghostly echoes of songs as opposed to songs proper. But I'm not hating; somebody out there needs these girls to pretend to rock, oh so softly.
Get the Music Newsletter
Keep your thumb on the local music scene each week with music news, trends, artist interviews and concert listings. We'll also send you special ticket offers and music deals.