So the blog's back after a three-week hiatus. Lucky you. I know, logo's sort of cool, right? It's a picture of Danish royalty watching the 1980's debut of
The Ascension by Glenn Branca (see below). lalz. I made it in MS Paint because I no longer have the money to have anything to do with Adobe Photoshop. Double lalz. Anyway:
Home -
Sexteen (2006)
Home is like a lost treasure from the Pavement and Guided By Voices-dominated lo-fi rock period of the early 90's that nobody knew about. Driven by the sort of fanboyish, slacker aesthetic that music encited, Home began releasing the first of what would become a staggering 12 casettes on their "label", ScrewMusicForever. Long after their lo-fi brethren had come, experienced critical and scene praise, and gone, Home continued with what therefore become entirely their own self-driven compulsion to make odes to the ordinary but intricate. However, like all compulsions, Home seemed to gain that sobering self-consciousness which can spell the end of compulsive desire, and disbanded two to three years ago after
Home XII. Away from the symbiotic nature of their band's interplay, each member's individual artistic drive developed independently, and the trappings of their old style were shed. New arrangments were explored, if only internally, until the inevitable reunion of their individual talents was realized this past year.
Sexteen is the sound of a band re-united with new ideas, yes, which explains the stylistic polarities contained within, but it also is one far less characterized by big ego. These guys, having never experienced success, never even had the opportunity to let it go to their head. This is no better evidenced than in the album's premise: a concept work about about fucking. Yes, you read that right: it's a concept album about fucking. The result is slightly goofy, sure, but far more sincere than you'd expect, and moreover the refinement of their songwriting after nearly 16 years of practice completely trumps any gimmick to
Sexteen's lyrical content. The sound is jumpy, foot-tapping, sometimes labored, but always delivered with that sort of whiny irreverence that lo-fiers did (and do, apparently) so well. It's a great album, and a complete surprise. If nothing else, it's an album allows you to listen to a song about foreplay and/or fingerbanging ("Teasing and Pleasing") that, somehow, manages to not come across as completely ridiculous, which is an accomplishment in and of itself.
