I had no cares in the 1990s, I knew of no downfalls

I’m gathering packages at the post office now–practically hording the damned things. The hazard, I suppose, of working the hours and living in the place I do. Three more just got shipped (yay AmRep!), and of course tomorrow is board game night so I STILL won’t be picking them up.¹²

Anyway, I’d intended to include a variety of things in my RSD post, including my passed-over purchases, one of which was accidental (The Zombies’ Odesssey and Oracle), and one deliberate (Pinback’s self-titled–limited, but black vinyl, and as low as..$21.99?! Utterly unjustified. Might’ve been coloured I now read, but still just too damned much for a domestic pressing, or at least domestic distro).

One thing I’d intended to add and just failed to was my much more skewed award for unexpectedly good find (that I actually got to listen to): Onelinedrawing’s The Volunteers. But as I was driving home from work today, I found myself itching for an album I’d listened to a lot on the way out, that I picked up in Oklahoma a few months back: The Wombats’ This Modern Glitch.

I know the band because I randomly watched The Inbetweeners and their track “Moving to New York” appeared in it, and really caught my ear. I’ve yet to run into the album from which it comes, but I shrugged and picked up this (later) album when I saw it. Immediately, it’s clear that there’s a shine on the group as of this album. “Moving to New York” was like a sardonic Cribs, but this had an electronic sheen on it, from the opener (“Our Perfect Disease”) onward, and openly acknowledged on “Techno Fan”.

It’s something peculiar–not quite the darkness or weight of the Faint’s Danse Macabre, but along those lines, sound-wise, a rock band infused with dance-oriented electronics. And I can only advocate their choice of singles: “1996” is dark, catchy, and pushes that weaving synthline with bassy counterpoint perfectly. Murphy’s an interesting mix of the absurd, the naïve, the nostalgic, and more sardonics. It’s, in its way, quintessentially British–not in the Kinks sense, though, more in the sense of someone from my generation (and Murphy is that: I’ve got almost exactly a month on him). He phrases the accomplishments of the decade against the minor but personally huge moments of his life, noting this directly, even. The video’s a dark, blue-tinted contrast to the catchiness, married instead to the song’s darker undercurrents. Murphy still looks like Robert Smith bred with Paul Reubens, which I don’t mean as any kind of insult, so much as a wild grab at the sense of familiarity he breeds–maybe it’s hints of ol’ Ian McCulloch, too, or that may just be the Liverpudlian connection. I dunno.

The album’s wormed its way into my head pretty thoroughly now, though, as it just nestles itself warmly into the strange mid-ground of the only-slightly-off indie stuff I listen to and the dance-y pop sound of the modern era that was brought upon me by obvious sources (“1996” is, then, a sickeningly bittersweet cross-section of the difficult to explain pangs of day-to-day life for me, tonally my ever-pursued simplistic nostalgia, and aurally a reminder of the person I miss far more than those days).

Check the stuff out, in any case. It’s good. Seriously.

¹Dammit, WordPress. I want my fucking italics!

²I went to check on my Slint box (oh great! another to arrive tomorrow!), and discovered that Hickman is a fucking doofus and has further marred Starlin’s Thanos, and I really, really need to read what Starlin’s doing next month and later this year. So fucking frustrating reading other people fuck up the character, on really basic, obvious points. The Titan worshipped death. CHILDREN? Are you fucking STUPID?

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