Everyone eventually goes through that moment when what’s new becomes frightening, and what’s recognizable or repeated often enough becomes good. I have a friend who describes this shit like tree sap, “Just because it’s stuck to you doesn’t mean it’s any good.”
Do you think Baby Boomers wanted to be, or thought they ever would be, scared of what’s on the radio? Of course not. They said something like, “Back in the day all I had to do was talk to Earl at the record store, then I’d know what’s in and groovy.” Well, Earl fucking died. That’s right. Earl’s fucking dead everyone! And not in a cute Dixie Chicks kinda way. He bit through his own tongue on a cocaine high while driving into a canyon with his motorbike. Do you know what he screamed on the way down? “Fuck getting old!”
You see, instead of giving new things a chance Earl stuck with what was recognizable. He continued to play his favourite Hendrix and Beatles records each night while the world outside continued to change. Instead of admitting this fear to anyone, he walked up to that motorbike he bought for himself on his 17th birthday, dusted it off, and drove it right into a canyon. And, do you want to know what this hypothetical-guy-I-just-made-up-to-prove-a-point said to every single person he met? “There’s no good music made after (insert date here).” Well, albums like Black Origami can cure the Earl disease, but it’s a hard fucking pill to swallow.
Song 1 starts: you will hear an incessant Roland Keyboard sound playing a repetitive riff over and over again. Don’t shut it off, keep listening.
Strings finally come in for a shot but they will sound like something you find in a Garageband preset. Don’t shut it off, keep listening.
The drums will keep you grounded a bit, but then all these new and silly sounds come in from everywhere. It’s like that scene in Star Wars where the walls are closing in but the sounds keep trying to push your face against the floor. Don’t shut if off, keep listening.
In fact, you probably won’t like song 1, 2, 3, 4, or any of them. Not with the first go through anyway. But, if I could give one piece of advice (you’ve already guessed it), it’s this: Don’t shut if off, keep listening. Because, in the end, it’s fucking worth it.
Halfway through listening to this album I still hated it. Then, at some point, I found myself bobbing my head. Then my feet were tapping. And when the album finally finished, I put that motherfucker right the fuck back on. All those sounds I first found annoying became beautiful and that cynical part of me, that part of me that judges the next generation as being loud or obnoxious, the one that paints them all with the same pessimistic brush, I watched that piece of shit drive into a canyon and then I pissed on his burning fucking ashes.
I could talk about the beats used, techniques, syncopations, but fuck it; it’s more fun if you figure that shit out yourself. You may not struggle at all with this album and good for you if you’re like that. But remember, one day you’ll listen to something that will make you cringe and you’ll want to say, “there’s no good music made after (insert date here)”. Then you’ll have to make a choice: Drive off into a canyon, or piss on that motherfucker’s ashes. All I ask is that you give piss a chance.