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Review Summary: It's aight When I was still a tenderfoot to the wheels of reality, I could weave my secondhand station wagon down dark country roads, stoned, and press the brakes to witness some barn burning down . . . the car’s windows rolling down, the classic rock station offering “Night Moves” as inscrutable diversion for the creatures fleeing that all-consuming blaze: chickens, horses, cows, and all a congregation for this fire sermon . . . and I could trick the moment into constellating, redshifting into myth before the sirens even reached us miles away, and burying itself beneath the organ drone of Seger’s song, and I could drive away then feeling something greater than animal wonder, something beyond and above any language of life. But that was just nostalgia. You, too, have met its angel once or twice. Most of the time, of course, nostalgia slaps you in the ass. And you like that, the surprise. It turns you on. To be at ground zero, though, face to face with it? Well, it gives you a swiving you won’t forget. Instant pleasure. The epiphany of apophany.
Now I’m a little older, or old enough at least to’ve found the ends of that mythology, that it distracts you from the worlds you’ll never understand, that it populates your inner skies with stars, some dead, to guide you deeper into absent space, and, that, as it dawns on you your agency is as the beast’s before the burning barn, it comforts you. And if it’s instant, great. You love it instant. You need it instant. You’ve read the news, and you’ve adapted to it. You’ve taken your stimulus check grocery shopping and heard “Night Moves” overhead, the loudspeaker interrupting with a message, not for you, as you and five others inspect the last of Eggland’s Best. Your neighbor makes his pick and carts away, and the HEB’s transformed, and in the parking lot five-hundred grackles search for scraps. Your glasses are fogging up. It’s nothing. On the drive home, after standing in line, the sound of cash burning away with every scanner’s beep, you’ll listen to some vaporwave. You know it’s not technically vaporwave, but whatever. It’s a nice album, and you feel it’s yours alone. It’s far from perfect and all the better for it. You haven’t played it in a while, and, if you live long enough, you’ll play it again.
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Album Rating: 4.0
Some day I'll sit down and write a decent straightforward review. Maybe in 2022 when Mr. DeRobertis drops five new Pepsi albums (at least that's what he claims he'll do on Twitter).
Anyway, here's a thing I wrote on a lazy day. I'll probably regret spending my afternoon on it instead of doing work, but if it prompts someone to check out the album, and they like it, then I guess it's time well spent
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Beautiful writing, doc, and nice handle to boot.
I've only heard Hit Vibes, is this much the same?
| | | Album Rating: 4.0
Thanks so much, Milo! And right back atcha.
This is pretty similar to Hit Vibes. Breezy sample-heavy sketches with an occasional hint of uneasiness/melancholy. Busier than your basic “chill study beats” fare. It’s more uneven than HV, for sure, but certain tracks here could’ve been among the best on that one. The Party Line, Egg McMacy, I Need Your Love in Me, and Sea Tea in particular are the ones I find myself most frequently returning to. The whole thing is only, like, 35 mins tho, and the songs are so brief and unabrasive that it’s easy to take it all in one go. Worth checking out if you’ve ever enjoyed a Pepsi release
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Shame his stuff isn't on Spotify, but he does make some fun ass music
| | | Album Rating: 3.5
this stuff is 3.5aight agreed
also free on bandcamp
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Oh hell yeah, this album's a fun old time. Been a while since I hopped on the old future funk train. Hit Vibes is definitely better but that's just lightning in a bottle. Lovely write-up btw :]
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