I'll believe in anything

My fingers feel more loose - looser? - than they have in a while. Wine helps. But so does Wolf Parade.



Apologies to the Queen Mary is a sweeter Modest Mouse - a Modest Mouse gorged on some sweet French cheese I've never heard of. But I tire of explaining bands and my enthusiasms for them by means of other bands. That's lazy writing. So be it known that Wolf Parade features hazy vocals full of reverb, yawped out over sharp clean guitar lines and a drum kit that's typically being whomped on with great vigor and spit. Their whole sound is ramshackle - but not lo-fi - in a charming way, as though that boy you were eyeing back in high school but stopped eyeing because he wouldn't amount to anything turned out OK in the end after all, and his songs are about God and guns and love and la-la-las, the latter two being boppy, powerful counters to the former two. The song this post is titled for is a goldurn masterpiece.

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I've been emptying my head into a Word file I've started specifically for pedagogical and educational review. Because you see, I have a major. Major. Interview coming up this Tuesday the 18th. This interview will take place in Las Vegas at that city's foremost preparatory learning institution.

I'm pretty excited about this.

Part of me wants to say that further discussion would jinx the proceedings, and I should be more demure and Zen. Part of me simultaneously remembers Mary Elizabeth Mastrontonio in the James Cameron underwater adventure film The Abyss, who, as her yellow submersible capsule is being craned into position over the unruly ocean, is wished luck on her mission. "Luck is not a factor," she says, and wrenches at the lever that releases the sub from its tether, and she plunges into the water.