Courtesy must go to fellow music luminary, Karl Pilkington, for opening up a whole new perspective on this song for me:
The voice of the song is a little cripple. He’s wheelchair-bound. And his woman’s trying her best to take good care of him as she drags him along to a party.
Mind Blown.
‘Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone?’
Ain’t that the truth. It wasn’t until these haemorrhoids really started acting up that I missed the simple joy of a pain-free bloodless shit.
‘I washed your dishes but I shit in your bathroom’
Never one to mince her words, Sharon Van Etten there expressing a sentiment we all feel at times.
Just appreciate me more.
I know we’ll face naysayers aplenty. Those who say it can’t be done. You literally cannot revive this blog because it’s a waste of everyone’s time, there’s no artistic or financial incentive and most of all there’s no fucking audience. That we lack the constitution to see anything through and that all it ever was, was a desperate attempt to have some semblance of creativity in our otherwise dull and unfulfilled lives,
And to those claims I say maybe you’re right. Maybe we will just do 3 more posts and then forget about it for another year. Maybe once the initial euphoria of phony creativity has faded it’ll be back to resentment towards facebook friends who have better lives than us and satirising current events for our own amusement.
But one thing’s for sure: we won’t know till we try! So come on I urge you comrades let’s give this another go. Together we’re unbreakable, we can do anything. And that goes for the fans too, we need you on board- none of this works without you, absolutely none of it. It’s your support that keeps me from ending it all really (Not just the blog but my life). All the emails and postcards and letters I’ve received: ‘Your blog really helped me get through my parents bitter divorce’ ‘Without your excellent music taste and witty insights I’d have no reason to get up in the morning’ ‘If you don’t restart the blog within 10 days I am going to kill myself and take several people with me’. These correspondences have really helped get me through our absence and put things into perspective.
We’re back. And we’re back for good.
As Ali Akbar Khan famously said “real music is not for wealth, not for honours or even the joys of the mind… but as a path for realisation and salvation” we at Telecaster Masters were mere seeds swimming around in our respective parents paunchy sacks.
Therefore we reject this phrase as complete nonsense; real music is what makes you gyrate your pelvis onto the nearest female, gets you kicked out of a club for being sick, convinces you to take another pill and posts selfies of you having a fun time to Facebook.
That’s what real music is, rock is dead.
Enough of that bollocks from the 60s.
I’m sick of hipsters romanticising the past and pretending things were better back then. They just weren’t.
Here’s Spandau Ballet.
It’s been a while… I’ve got so much to tell you.
Mood:
Apathetic
If you can get past the name being a clear reference to a sex position then you’re in for a banger. The dream pop ghostly vocals and three note keyboard guy are all here, but its set against a jazzy backdrop and an offbeat tempo which is sure to lead to some cunt somewhere declaring this a new genre.
To be fair to Diana a lot of these new fangled genres do sound like dirty street drugs, the ‘dream pop’, ‘grind core’, ‘new wave’,
the ‘screwball’. Its going downhill.
Mother was right. All this new music, like video-games and interracial relationships, are absolute filth
The most sensitive black man in music is back with another club banger. Don’t be a stranger.
