Friday, March 27, 2009
As I drive North on the 101 through Los Angeles I turn my head for a glimpse of our ever so famous “Tower.” That’s right, the Capitol Records tower which rears it’s legendary skull amongst the cities fine dust and vapored sky, home of catalogs such as The Beatles, Robbie Williams, Pink Floyd, Crowded House, and The Rolling Stones is waving it’s hand at me as if I needed to stop by for some strange reason. Fuck, now I remember, I just received an email from my lawyer that my NOW 26 platinum plaque has arrived, is collecting dust, and needs to be picked up. At this point I’m already past the exit and say, “fuck it, I’ll swing by next week when I’m not in a rush and traffic doesn’t suck.”
The new songs: Where do I begin. I’m so immersed in them it’s hard for me to clearly describe them in a logical form. There’s certainly an energy, an attitude, and rawness to the sound that wasn’t there on the last record. Not so much heart failure and dear diary poetic justice as there is desire, opinion, and expression through many states of mind. The beats are aggressive, the guitars are loud, the keys and bass are on heroin, and the vocals are somewhere between Jack Nicholson and Michael Hutchinson. Nah…the vocals are just driving me fucking crazy…
- Kurtis
