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:: A grasp of the permeable boundary between writing and nonsense ::
Thursday, September 02, 2004
I'm using my last "summer Friday" tomorrow so it doesn't go to waste. This means I have a four-day weekend spanning a stretch of consistently good weather unseen (at least, on a weekend) in months. The RNC wooed me into telecommuting for a couple of days, so I'm well-rested and, despite coming in to the office today, itching to stay away from the apartment for as long as possible.
And I'll be going nowhere. So I'm really, really bitter.
Then along came this commentary-cum-onanism about, from what I can gather, how Rilo Kiley can be none more awesome, and a font of bitchiness was unleashed. Now far be it for me impugn pedantry, but this is just off the charts.
Everything else depends on Lewis's singing, always lean and lissome (she was principal backup for the Postal Service), but now also big and textured, breathy and kind and emotive, live-er, acted with a grasp of the permeable boundary between persona and character. The melodies are beefed up with the kind of simple handclaps-to-horns touches puritans know to be mammon's work.
A friend of mine once pointed out how inherently silly it was to intellectualize beyond moderation about something so visceral as the way sounds happen to strike each and every one of our ears. Lyrics, now those are for thesis papers, but dropping biblical terms and describing the nature of someone's singing as "live-er" just leaves me perplexed. Should someone decipher the rest of this indefinable wordiness, please inform me.
Posted by morland @ 05:20 PM
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