m. tremble gets today's gold star for identifying what i, too, hate about the fiery furnaces' blueberry boat (and, for that matter, their opening gig for wilco):
...almost a full year after I purchased the Fiery Furnaces album, Blueberry Boat, with great anticipation, I'm still mad at them for making such a dense, impossible and pleasure-less follow-up to their exciting debut. Fuck them and their seven-part songs about dogs and fruit and whatever the fuck they're talking about. People have told me their most recent EP is far more accessible and entertaining but, unless each copy of it comes with a hand-written apology note, I don't want it. Whenever a track from Blueberry Boat rears its ugly geometric head on some shuffled playlist, I feel like I'm hearing the definitive argument against my particular tastes in music.


Thanks, Fiery Furnaces. Now put down your antique floozophone or whatever and pick up some AMERICAN instruments, you terrorists.
so grateful was i that i took his cue and downloaded the stars' set yourself on fire (not to be confused with the aforementioned, the flaming stars, or arcade fire). lovely, lovely album - lush rasputina-ish strings, tradeoff vocals (especially on "your ex-lover is dead") that recall the mood and theme of pj harvey and thom yorke's "the mess we're in," smart, despondent lyrics a la the mountain goats' alpha couple songs. i've played the damn thing three times through today and am still enthralled; i'm forcing joe to go to their brooklyn show at the end of next month.

a scuba diver erupted from our elevator bank this morning with a fish (in water and a bowl, not shrink wrap and styrofoam) for one of our editors, supposedly to advertise atlantis resorts. i know offices aren't for fishies, but i'm still a bit jealous.

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