The Pale King’s dimensions are circumscribed by middle America’s topographical flatness, with the traffic problems of small towns adjusting to business hubs described in great detail, along with the post-work rush to drink or the tenseness of a new employee on a precious break overeagerly trying to ingratiate himself with veteran employees.
The summer keeps going as we talk shop with Robert Greene and his new documentary Fake It So Real.
Our first of order of business—can you find the moment where I flubbed the original recording and had to do a hard audio edit?
We’re back with episode 3, and are joined at Grassroots Tavern by Alex Ross Perry.
When they write a history of Twitter, hopefully a footnote will be spared for Alejandro Adams.
Armond White always begins with himself and ends there too.
Like The Flaming Lips, Andrew Bird’s a musical existentialist: Lyrics of doubt and worry against a reassuring musical backdrop.
There’s a lot of controversy about how closely, if at all, From a Basement on the Hill mirrors Elliott Smith’s intentions for its final form.
The splendidly odd Neko Case has the looks of a pin-up girl and the voice of an “American Idol” champion.
Last year, for reasons I don’t entirely understand, Gucci Mane suddenly become a rap critic favorite.
Mellow’s name was a lie: Perfect Colors, their second (and seemingly final) album proper, is breathlessly sarcastic.
After Moon Safari, Air were (at least briefly) mandatory entry-level indie listening, slotted alongside Belle and Sebastian and Elliott Smith; I grew up on them.
RJD2 eventually went in some poorly-reviewed direction or other I didn’t follow; apparently things got a lot whiter and clumsier.