post-grad wannabe socially accepted nonsense

photo: jcoterhals

And then there was one. An introduction so surely stolen from the moment in The Matrix when some kind of zen is reestablished. A riff so jaggedy it deserves cutting out with that special type of scissor. Glue it to a paper piano. Lyrics spat out like Juicy Fruit by a voice weighed down with similar disdain, yet capable of floating falsetto. A crunching chorus with what almost sounds like raspberries. A few ascending moments of guitar calm, a call and response paced at John Barnes rap speed. Back to the start. Introductory verse repeated with a little more kick and some backing la-la-la's, same ascending tranquility extended then all out-yelping hostility. Military drum fire. Lodged in my head for what feels like forever, but not really. Like regurgitating pain-killers then sucking them back down, glugged down with White Lightning before puking all over the playground and collapsing in a glorious heap. I honestly don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Such variety though yeah?

Perhaps a microcosm of all that is good / was great about Elle Milano. How I wished they had played ball with the biz, but then again it would have spoiled the magic. Or would it? We can't turn back the clocks.

Elle Milano - Catch The Magic

////buy Acres of Dead Space Cadets off Amazon for less than a pint. Ridiculous.

'Classic' Elle Milano kids. I would shut up about them, but they never liked blowing their own trumpets. Somebody has to and if you want a 'normal' description, the archives are on the right. Certainly one of the last tracks to surface from the Acres sessions, props to Zennor for sorting a brother out.

Adam M. Crisp aka Miya Suzuki aka Kobé Winona aka Entrepreneurs has been busy. Check back in a day or two for the real kinder surprise. In analogue.