Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Just got the the new Xiu Xiu.

Yet again I understand why Xiu Xiu shows have a gaggle of eager Jamie Stewart groupies standing at attention, rapt, at the foot of the stage. The man lays his heart bare, disregarding the fact that it resembles the scene of a high speed multiple car wreck where all the occupants are ejected to varying degrees upon impact. We can't look away, even though we want to throw up. Meanwhile, the multiple mangled car stereos are all still cranking out their last dirges, punctuating clanging metal, sputtering hoses, or episodes of eerie silence -- creating a cacophonous yet strangely melodic soundtrack to the carnage.

There is the magic.

Every adjective that I have used in the past to describe this band and their work is the same for this album as well. And yet each new album is completely unique. You know the action movies where someone is caught in a room with a ticking time bomb? And the camera pans to their frantic eyes while they watch the clock? Women as Lovers listens like what I imagine it feels like to personally watch those last few seconds before the zero...ticks...off...

Love of beauty is Taste; the creation of beauty is Art

Ralph Waldo Emerson

(I totally stole that line from the cover of the lovely March issue of Vanity Fair. But I merely have Taste, you know?)

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