((Some things didn’t fit into my conception of this list. Compilations, EPs, other… surprises. So I’m bringing in the big-hitters to help me out. First in a series of linking guest-posts is Darragh McCausland, of Analogue, State, Asleep On The Compost Heap and his kitchen.))
Jay Reatard – Matador Singles ’08
Matador
So Karl is delegating out the artists who he doesn’t think fit the criteria for his albums of the year list. I don’t know whether to admire or worry about such fastidiousness. Any frozen heads in your fridge Karl? We shouldn’t give a fuck that Jay Reatard’s singles collection is not technically an album because
A: it sounds like one (a brilliantly coherent one too)
B: Jay certainly wouldn’t give a fuck either
For what it’s worth, the music on this collection of singles isn’t futuristic, world-changing or anything like that. It’s just a bunch of reatardedly awesome pop/punk tunes, which doesn’t for one second dip in quality, tempo or attitude. Jay is a rare creature in the current rock landscape, an old school songsmith who just gets on with the business of churning out these thrilling songs, hopefully oblivious to the hurricane of hype building around him.
((Watch this snivelling interview with Nitsuh Abebe and then watch the blistering live set, all on Pitchfork.tv.))
*affectedly pulls shirt sleeves like an autistic member of Belle and Sebastian. “oh wow Jay that’s great. yeah I really see that. Tell me any advice for a fifteen year old picking up a guitar for the first time”
“Ugh well dude, there was this one time I lived in a home for retarded people and a woman used to roll around with a comb shoved up her butt. That was like fucked up and shit”
“Oh wow Jay oh really? that must have been so tough. Speaking of Butts, yours looks a bit dirty. Mind if I lick it?”
How do I make ‘comments’ become ‘eggs’?
Karl it is very easy. You have sex with a male bird, feather a nest, sit on it and then squeeze one out of your birdy bum.
I’m Adam. You need to go back on the booze, G. I also better make sure I duct tape the bird before rogering it to avoid a messy explosion. If only they could be wired for implosion…
Gentlemen, please…
Uh oh. Darragh, you and I have brought the tone down.
We should really save our ‘fowl’ humour for our respective blogs. C’mon, THAT was definitely funnay as fook, no?…ok, I’ll get me coat..