I fell in love with Martha because she had sunburned shoulders, just like my girlfriend. Their downbeat admission that “the autumn forecast’s looking dismal again” somehow proved irresistible. And when ‘Ice Cream and Sunscreen’ suddenly sped up, my heart did the same, singing along to all band members of Martha bursting out in unison: “I […]
Photo by Greta Buitkute. From left to right: Whitney, Hannah, Harri, Fiona. Missed part 1? Backtrack here. Transcribed by Lee Adcock. The original plan was to interview ILL for ten minutes. But where’s the fun in that when there are four like-minded people gathering together to discuss the things that matter to them musically one […]
Fuck damnit, I’m slow. Like, folk been talkin’ ’bout the Fatties for decades now. Same way folk been sayin’ that Taylor Swift album is really somethin’. Well, not the exact same way but similar, ya dig? With the newfound enthusiasm of the born-again pop/indie fan (delete as applicable). Like, somehow it’s being darin’ or risky […]
Would I take drugs with Sky Ferreira? Of course I fucking would.
Animal Collective was like if a 10-year-old made a batch of E and forced you to take it even though you wanted to take a nap instead.
Some folk may contend she’s been hanging out with the wrong people recently. Not from where I’m sitting.
In their own way, they’re Smiths good: a backhanded compliment if ever I wrote one.
Secretly, what modern mainstream pop-hackery confirms is that there’s a fundamental sadness to the role of music writer, or at least there is if you let it take hold – you are employed to basically be a hanger-on, an eavesdropper, a spod, a geek, someone who won’t shut up about something the rest of the world just get on enjoying.
Sex, drugs, more sex, more drugs, each song details another night of Bacchanalian excess with no redemption in sight. Are you ready to party?
I enjoyed this year’s Splendour, as I always do.