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 Scott Creney

Sleigh Bells – Reign Of Terror (Mom & Pop)

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Sleigh-Bells-Reign-of-Terror

By Scott Creney

As pop, it’s irritating and destructive. As rock, it could give a fuck. What more could you ask for? Depth? Meaning? Emotions? What world are you fucking people living in? Haven’t you been paying attention? Truth doesn’t exist. Language is a virus. And viral is the new Top 40. Why not make music as shallow as possible? A coked-up slamming of guitars and drum machines, a music that sounds better as an MP3, supermodels and Nirvana T-shirts—it’s a steaming crash pile of semiotics. What could be more 21st Century than that?

And you people think Sleigh Bells is shallow? What the fuck did you ever do that was deep? Complain about hipsters on some fucking blog? Go around congratulating yourself on your third-hand insights about music and politics?

Actually, it’s not that far away from Big Black.

Sleigh Bells sounds like the 21st Century, but you my friend are worn-out and old, about as relevant as that set of Encyclopedia Brittanicas your mom and dad bought you for your 10th birthday. The world fucking deserves Sleigh Bells, but you don’t. You deserve to listen to My Morning Jacket and go grow your beard, you sweet fucking dull buffoon of a man. Yeah, that banjo makes you look really fucking authentic. Or it would if you hadn’t grown up in the suburbs. Loser.

Sleigh Bells have been many things, but they have yet to be pathetic. It’s a shallow world and it’s all your fault. Sleigh Bells have come to rub your nose in it, bad dog that you are.

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