Analogue Devices
Jan 7, 2006 · 1 minute readRule 1 of poll-based charts: Fans of Norwegian bands are to be feared and respected, lest they unleash their might forces against you.
Rule 1 of poll-based charts: Fans of Norwegian bands are to be feared and respected, lest they unleash their might forces against you.
Why did they have to get somebody who I’d like to watch? grumbles about work
Internet still not short of people with far too much time on their hands (these people need to read a few k-punk reviews, seriously).
Glancing over at Sweeping The Nation’s UK Albums of 2005 poll, I have to confess:
I still haven't heard Funeral.Well, 2006 is beginning with endings, sadly, and that’s before Unicron shows up to threaten the universe (it’s going to take me a while to get it out of my system, sorry). After almost six years, New York London Paris Munich is closing its doors. Together with its sort-of-half-cousin-through-an-illicit-affair site, I Love Music, it has kept me entertained and informed over the past half-decade, so I’m sad to see Tom close it down. But these things happen, and definite endings are better than drawn-out zombie deaths, I guess (please don’t mention Hobart Paving).
Anyway, 2006. Snobbery and decay. Yes!cd:uk has been axed, apparently. Curse of Lauren strikes again…
I can feel a new expression on my faceThis song sounds like every crush you've ever had. Every time you've looked over at someone at a party, every time you've smiled a bit too long at somebody, or tripped over your tongue in a failed attempt not to embarrass yourself. That giddy rush when she smiles back, or when she says "hello" when walking down the street. It's all here.
I can feel a growing sensation every place
I wish I could tell you how much I careIt's a song for hopeless cases, for winter nights that last into four in the morning, for mixtapes and hand-made books, and for giving yourself alcohol poisoning in an attempt to build up courage.
every time that you, that you, that you…
I can feel a new expressionHints of a Chic guitar, the British Dreambabes of the 1960s, synthesised strings, sprinklings of glitter, and those 1970s computer sounds building up into that explosion of a chorus. And than all over again. And again. And again. Then, just as you feel that the song is beginning to end, it comes back for one final time:
every time that you that you, that you…
I wish I could tell you how much I careYour cheeks flush red as the singer sings "I wish I could tell you how much I care" with a quiet desperation. You look over towards the other side of the room, and sigh as the song begins its stuttering conclusion. It's a song that I can't listen to regularly, as it completely drains me. But when it crops up on random rotation, it gives me the sensation of a crush in a five-minute shot. Nothing else in 2005 even came close. BONUS EXTRA LIFE! HYPER SONIC IMPROVEMENTS! ARTICLE POWER-UP!
every time that you, that you, that you…