Cosines. You’ve heard and loved this song before. There’s absolutely no reason not to hear and love this song again.
There’s a part of me that still holds that ‘We’re From Barcelona’ from those Zeitgeist-suckling, cod-Christian flailing, infectiously inane, irritatingly delightful I’m From Barcelona to be one of the singles of the 00s.
The singer hits a slightly wrong note on the guitar and the song stops. No one notices.
Give ’em time, I reckon. They’ve got energy, attitude, a spark. Let’s see if they turn into a Savages or a Divorce. I know which side of the line I’ll be cheering from.
This vaguely recalls many delights, but has a sunlit haze charm unique to one street in my Chosen City. Like a toddler walking sideways and falling over just because she can. Delicious.
That’s SIR Wharton Tiers to you punkette, man who’s drummed with the Bangs almighty No Wave band Theoretical Girls (ft. Glenn Branca) and Laurie Anderson.
Sometime soon, I need to wake myself up. This abject surrender, this kissing with my eyes open, serves me no good whatsoever.
There’s this slightly pathetic, socially inept indie boy, see. He idolises women. He wants to be with the women, understands instinctively that he’d have more fun if he was with the women
This could, I suspect, be called synth-pop without much fear of contradiction.
The video is so striking, it’s easy to overlook how rad the music is. And the music certainly is rad.