Do I Look Too Regular
I'm not going to talk to you about how the weather is turning cold and the threadbare quilt on my bed is barely doing its job. I'm not going to talk about how on some streets in Los Angeles the deciduous trees do their best to look like an honest to goodness autumn. I'm not going to talk about hot cups of mulled cider or the stack of wood in my fireplace. And I'm definitely not going to talk about how Bon Iver's album is the perfect complement to all of this.
Some albums demand specific surroundings. This is one of them. But it technically doesn't come out until February, when you folks on the east coast will be sick to death of the cold, and us on the west coast will be happy to see a little rain. So I'm not going to talk about today, since it wouldn't really be fair.
This song is as smooth and honey golden as the wood floors of my apartment. Bon Iver shouts to be heard over himself, the cornstalk strum of his guitar feasting on the bottom end. Using the same tools that all of us have at our disposal - acousitic guitar, hand claps, a voice filled up with tender strength, he comes up with something new, something crisp and fresh. He told us to be patient, and he told us to be fine.
I know that it's kind of old news that he signed to jagjaguwar, but I honestly don't care. His record is too good to ignore. You can stream the whole thing over at virb and it's amazing. Some of you folks will get to see him on tour shortly, ending at the Bowery on the 7th of December. The rest of us will have to wait.
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Completely unrelated, if any of you in Los Angeles are desperate to run into me you could do worse than come to the Vice party at the Cha Cha on Thursday night. Dollar scotch from 8 to 10, and some comedy stuff. More info and rsvp here
xoxo
mark.