Warning: If it’s a lovely day outside, the sun is out and the birds are singing with an extra trill cause they’re all going down on each other, don’t listen to this album. This is a midnight record. It’s how-the-fuck-am-I-not-asleep-yet music. It’s night music.
Carla is one of the most bizarre and interesting people in the world. She’s known for being the founder and lead singer of the Geraldine Fibbers. If you read that band name and completely blanked, don’t worry. It’s from the ’90s. Most likely, you weren’t alive yet. If you were … (looks over the left shoulder, then the right shoulder, then back at you with eyes as wide as a coked out cat) how crazy is this shit right now?! Holy shit! Computers are so fucking good now! Why is everything getting remade?! Remember the dial-up song?! [doooooo-meep-merp-meep-merp-meep-merp-meep *squealing for the next hour like a phone is getting gangbanged]
.. Sorry about that
Carla was, and is, the genuine article. She made Courtney Love look like a poser. After the ’90s, members of Geraldine Fibbers would go on to support or make bands like: A Silver Mt. Zion, Wilco, The Circle Jerks, and Godspeed You! Black Emperor. Not too fucking shabby. Carla has made tons of music since. But she has never been as popular as she was then for one specific reason: she doesn’t fucking want to be. She’s not making pop/rock anymore.
The album name makes sense as soon as the first note plays. This shit is definitely quieter than the rest of the punk/grime queen’s albums. Each song is a complete world of its own. Her lyricism on End of the World has been licked by Tom Waits and feels like a Waits B-side. The song Glass House has this wonderful childishness to it yet lives on the same planet where Bjork drinks octopus tea. If you don’t like style of one song, just skip over, you’ll find one you’ll like.
Straight up? This shit is pretty abstract. It’s weird. It might make you cringe at times. But holy-fucking-shit it has so much to offer. Her writing has become so fucking crisp that it’s like a fresh bag of chips dropped into a vat of liquid nitrogen. The players on this album are legit. Sure, she may not have the catchiest melodies at times, but who fucking cares.
Just cause something sticks to you doesn’t make it good. In fact, if you think about it for a sec, things that stick to you are fucking terrible. Gross. Coming from someone who lived during the ’90s, we gotta learn how to let go of things. Move the fuck on. Remakes. Reboots. Spin-offs. Fuck that (even though I can’t help but love most of them). Look at Carla, she has moved onto newer and better things. She’s improved and bettered herself. Let’s hope we can all do the same.