The return of Everett True | 97. Twerps
I’m more familiar with this type of music than I ought to be, but that’s hardly Twerps fault.
Which leaves me in somewhat of a quandary. How should I describe this, without resorting to a list of names that would bore even me? (Some way too obvious, some The Pastels, one Twelve Cubic Feet.) That doesn’t help explain why I immediately fell for the new Twerps album Range Anxiety.
The reason I immediately fell for the new Twerps album Range Anxiety is because Guy sent me a CD. A CD turned up for me in the post! I mean, how quaint is that? I wasn’t even sure such things existed these days… cassettes yes, vinyl yes, but CDs? And I definitely didn’t realise I was still on anyone’s radar. So I listened and I fell for it. Of course I listened and fell for it. This music is hidden treasure: far more delicate and fragile than I remember. Those long lists of names I didn’t want to mention just a few dozen words ago? These were all going to feature bands that were special, defiantly so, to me and me alone. (Oh, go on then. To you as well, possibly.) These were all bands that tapped into the heart of melancholy. Plaintive. Calling. Calling to me. Calling to me down through the years and out through 2015. There’s a bubbling keyboard that burbles bittersweet-happily through this song that reminds me of the way – poor naive me! – I once upon a time thought all keyboards sounded. There’s a vocal that sounds (in texture) like most the guitars that were associated with The Legend! in the mid-80s. The lyrics are mildly envious. There’s a killer key change on the centre that just whispers Dunedin.
I didn’t want to write anything tonight. But I still feel the desire to share, the urge, whenever I hear music as beautiful as this.
So I do.
Share this post:
- Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)
- Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)
- Click to print (Opens in new window)
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.