March 19, 2013 by imustseeaman
LISTEN! while you read.
Sorry Strokes, but as a privileged reward for being my first music review on this blog, you get a brief introduction that does not pertain to you whatsoever.
I’m going to open yet another subheading for music reviews, which will grow to exponential proportions… meaning more than the routine two entries I have a habit of uploading before giving up and opening a new subheading.
This will be my second attempt at music reviewing. I’d post my other one but I kind of sold its soul to someone already. Anyway, I hope you skipped this introduction. If you are reading this, you disappoint me.
Warning: If the Strokes have a tendency to make your giny tickle, you might want to skip these next two snippets as well.
One Way Trigger is a bad song. This is a subjective fact. (Yes, there are such things as subjective facts.) It sounds like an 8 bit rendition of a bad mariachi band. The vocals are much too week for the volume they are mixed at. Julian sounds like a 12 year old girl who is much too shy at her recital. And then when the chorus comes, she awkwardly belts it because she toootally knows that part. To be fair though, he normally has a pretty impressive vocal range, with is partly why the feminine side of me goes ape shit at the very thought of his existence.
When All the Time came out, trace amounts of faith had been restored. It sounded like a generic Strokes track. At least one of the better ones. I caught the YOLO reference in the lyrics. (Can you find it? Hint: Jk, just read the lyrics.) The music video is a lazy carbon copy copy copy copy of the Someday video, but that’s ok. It’s the thought that counts.
Also, the album cover’s dumb.
Tl:dr. The singles suck. The album cover’s dumb.
With that being said, Come Down Machine is probably one of the greatest fucking albums The Strokes have ever conjured. I’ll admit, there are times when they seem like the love child of Phoenix and MGMT but they pull it off quite well.. Despite that weird skid mark they called One Way Trigger, the production value is pretty fantastic. Not only is each song completely original and memorable, they take the style and fucking run with it. You can tell maturity and the weight of the world directed this album. The guitar parts are much more fluid and varied compared to past Strokes records. Signature monotone vocal moans were replaced with silky melodies I can finally sing along too. Songs like Chances and Happy Ending lead you strolling through the avant garden. 50-50 pulls you right back out and into the post-punk 00s, Tap Out pulls you further back into the 80s, and Call it Fate Call it Karma opens the trap door all the way to the 50s, you know, just to fuck with you.