Song of the day – 353: Tearist
Listen. I don’t want to start repeating everything my writers recommend – I like to think of myself separate from the herd, however unruly a shape the herd takes – but, hey! I like my writers. Otherwise they wouldn’t be writing here.
This one was cruelly overlooked here on Collapse Board. Cruelly. The only other post as cruelly overlooked as this was Wallace’s eloquently and passionately argued appraisal of Barbara Panther, and that one you’re all going to be pretending you were entirely familiar with come 12 months time. So. I’m going to post this here, and remind you. Beautiful and pressing and random and flowing and jittery and full of purple little bug-headed bugs: music that will make you smile about music once more (to lift a line from one of my Twitter correspondents).
From Brigette’s original post:
Oh Tearist, I can feel the vibrations of guilt and terror from your drum machine. Your singer who squeals and spits, flops and flails in some bizarre Hot Topic potato sack — she throws down a railroad spike and gives birth to a house of convex mirrors. I hope each of our voices becomes as hoarse as the one we hear now, whether we are shouting for the advancement of our civilization or shouting down our innermost evils.
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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.
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