Song of the day – 502: The Pharmacy

Here’s the glib one-liner for the ladies staffing the barricades:

It’s as if [Steve] Malkmus had spent his college years digging the groove of [Paul] McCartney’s second solo album instead of [Mark E.] Smith’s band’s fifth one.

You can tell I’m learning how to be a music critic, right?

In places, the new Pharmacy album reminds me of The Frank And Walters. (I know how you all hate those comparisons out there, figure it to be lazy jargon shorthand. It is. It ain’t. Often, I’m trying to lay down vapour trails for you all to soar along by. Partly, I want to point out I love the way the singer can’t hit the top notes but tries so hard.) I do remain worried that too little exposure to Vampire Weekend hasn’t hardened me up appropriately. The vocals are laconic but… c’mon. Name me some that aren’t.

You can call The Pharmacy ‘psychedelic’ if you want. I don’t think anyone will object. Not like slam-your-head-repeatedly-inside-a car-door object, anyway.

Thought I’d share a couple of other songs with you. No reason. The new Pharmacy album is called Stoned & Alone, and I thought perhaps suggestible?

Now I’m way distracted. I wanted to write something fancy about melody and harmony and The Webb Brothers because The Webb Brothers still represent an unclaimed peak for me, but instead I’m thinking of romance and torpor and the way Mike Love can sack Brian Wilson because he understands the value and place of commerce. Some of the lyrics are claptrap. C’mon, Pharmacy. A song about a Chinese Finger Trap? Really? Some of the songs remind me of the buoyant bubbling pop heart to Half A Cow. (Click here. Especially if you ain’t Australian.) This Pharmacy album I will forget and then hopefully remember just when I want to be pleasantly surprised.

It has made me happy for 12 hours now, and that’s a long stretch of happiness.

Nikki Sudden. That’s the name I was looking for. Man, sometimes I miss you Nikki.

by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.