Song of the day – 619: Pairs

It’s brief. It’s brutal. It’s over in under 120 seconds.

Halfway through, goaded beyond belief by the random paint-chucking of an incoming inclement weather system, it even forgets to be polite: changes from a Jon Wayne (the band, not Marion himself) drawl to a full-throated yet whiny roar. The drums are as relentless as something really relentless. The drums are as clattering and insistent as something really clattering and insistent (your four-year-old in the under-stairs cupboard, perhaps). The drums are all grandiose petulant gestures. The drums are a punk grandma. We’re talking Bo Diddley without the bo. Or the diddle. You want to sound petulant? Listen and fucking learn, punk. Listen and fucking learn.

Jumper Fucking Round.

This song is longer so in many ways it’s nastier. And in many ways it’s not because Art Brut are NOT nasty no matter how misanthropic they be.

Now you know as much as me. Laters.

by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.