Oh, how I wish I were that rabbit. Joy spreads throughout my body whenever I see such radiance, straight down into that wonderful man's lap. Would you like to join me? Such good times would follow, you know, and there's nothing to lose when merely experiencing something new. After all we're just innocent little children who's lives are dominated by baseball cards and bubblegum. There's something strange about that man that I can't quite put my mouth on, but at this time I guess it really isn't worth pondering over much. We can all sit back and let our faces flush pink and white and inbetween colours that we never knew existed. Getting a mouthful never sounded so good....
A mouthful of Eureka
, that is.
Tell me, do you know who this Jim O'Rourke fellow is? That dude that was in Gastr del Sol with that other dude that was in Slint, made a lot of noise and jazzopy, and played with that one grunge band? Yeah that's him, I'm glad you could answer my question. Really though, Sir O'Rourke of ye olde Chicago has been at this art thing for awhile, whether it be creating plenty of interesting music or making films. This man is a talented ol' chap so they say, and maybe we should all experience this eargasm together, with the volume up and a bowl of oatmeal to heal your eyes from that syphillis. Sorry, but next time just don't get your bunnies off the streets.
finds Jim O'Rourke blending many styles together, something that is important to know. There's jangle pop, folk, relaxing jazz, and an assortment of other more vague influences and whatnot. Thanks such diversity, Eureka
rarely tires itself, getting all the rabbit action can handle. "Prelude to Women 110 or 220/Women of the World" starts things off on a joyous note, with gentle acouscit guitars, strings, xylophone, leading way into more subdued sections including only acoustics and faint bass drum. Also note the simple but effectively gorgeous piano. O'Rourke's voice is at the least pleasant, never detracting from the song (or any others here) as he repitiously sings "Women of the world take over / Cause if you don't the world will come to an end / And it won't take long" without a serious quality nor any form of implied irony, as the songs gradually builds to an even more uplifting high. "Ghost Ship in a Storm" is much more malencholy than its predecessor, shifting between trotting verse with sparkling piano and lapsteel to muffled trumpets and back. Imagine Wilco, but a lot cooler.
The rest of Eureka
is a particurlarly interesting shindig, as it is mainly dominated by jazz and chamber pop leanings, more so than the first two songs. Here songs include the likes of guitars, piano, standup bass, strings, flutes, horns, the whole shabang. Despite some of it nodding off into overly ambient la la land ("Movie in the Way Down" is still excellent, though), the songs dominate my brain like that pleasant man on the cover dominates stuffed animals. "Through the Night Swiftly" contains undoubtedly the most rewarding moment here, as a saxophone solo bursts through the mixes, sound oddly similar to "Us and Them", yet still retaining a sort of New York mentality. And then it busts into strings, just as you would suspect with a song shapeshifter such as O'Rourke. He also does this on "Please Patronise Our Sponsors" to much the samely kickas
s effect. "Something Big" brings the mosh with jazzy geetars, strings, horns, shakers, and just an overall post-World War II sort of vaudeville feel, you know what I mean. At just the right time, Eureka
decides to start wrapping things up with the title track, an almost mournful and melancholic way to end the album, with that wonderful, gentle voice and crawling tempo. Geniunely sad, he sings "Youre thinking on your feet / While youre sitting there on your as
s / Fresh crease in your shirts / No stain of sweat on your back / Theres no need / Theres an employee / To make up for all of your slack A seed dont make a tree / Without a servant who waters the grass." As his heart is being phunkd with, horns gently push their way into the haze of backwards tape effects and glitches in his arteries.
Post Script: Mr. O'Rourke, if you ever happen to come across such a rabbit, preferably one shoved into the loins of many-a-men, kindly send it to me as soon as possible. Cherish it I will, hugging it and listening to the sounds of a quaint metropolis spreading over my small town fray of hair. Never shall I wash that rabbit, either; I want to taste it's experiences like I taste yours.