The Decemberists, 'The Hazards of Love', or 'A Blight Upon My iPod'

Wow. Just wow. This is awful on a scale of metaphysical awful-tude I can barely describe to you. I read a lot about these guys 'challenging their audience' and 'not selling out'. Somehow following up a career of very listenable songs laden with faux-intellectualism and over the top bullshit encyclopedia referencing with a bullshit concept album about some simp farting around with queens and forest nymphs means you're staying true to yourselves.

It says a lot that I had to debate whether to bash these guys as 'wimp rock' or 'nerd rock'. I get the feeling these guys are now catering exclusively to people who come home, don capes, sit down at their PC and assume the role of a 63rd level dwarf-mage. 

Where once I had hope that these guys would develop into something large and awesome (in the direction of the very good song 'Sons and Daughters'), they have folded in on themselves into something small, inward looking and suitable for high school drama classes. I can just see some pile of nerds somewhere putting this ridiculous piece of music on as some sort of 'see how arty we are' nose-thumbing at the football team. F U, nerds.

Also worth noting, the Pitchfork review features the following sentence: 'The Hazards of Love, inspired by UK folkie Anne Briggs' 1966 EP of the same name, has thick stoner-metal sludge and peat-bogged prog-folk arpeggios.' Seriously, man? Are trying to outdo the band? At long last, have you no shame, sir? At least they gave it a 5.7, about the equivalent measure on the Richter scale this shitstorm clocks in at. 

Why Do You Do This To Me?

See that? It's an example of how to tie a noose. Why is it here? Because I often think of it whenever bands do the things that bands do that are totally annoying and completely inexplicable. Examples to follow, NATURALLY, but these do tend to fill me with rage and/or make me ponder whether my iPod headphone cord would support my weight from the shower curtain rod. 

Uppermost in my mind are these incredibly stupid, fucking awful songs under sixty seconds that are just little snippets of music or even one chord playing over and over. Why would you do this? What is the point? What could you possibly be thinking? No one likes this. It is not going to be something that anyone recalls. No one. It is not artistic, it is not cool, there is nothing awesome or interesting about it. It's selfish, it costs us 99 cents if we buy your entire lousy album, so seriously, fuck off already.

Biggest offender: Spiritualized, clocking in with FOUR GODDAMN SONGS under a minute long. You pretentious pricks, how dare you. Even the names make me want to ring up the Ancient Circle of Ballpunchery and have them pay you a visit: Harmony 1 (Mellotron), Harmony 2 (Piano), Harmony 3 (Voice) and ... wait for it ... Harmony 6 (Glockenspiel)!!! Holy fucking shit are you guys assholes.

This kind of thing makes me completely furious, and these songs automatically get a 1 star rating, meaning they are a disgrace to music. They fill me with intense loathing for the band that has done this to me, and make me inclined to never buy another thing they put out. I am done with Spiritualized, even though their last record was a gift. I am boycotting them on behalf of the girl who bought it for me. 

Other notable recent offenders are Beirut, Okkervil River (funny, they didn't seem like assholes), and Andrew Bird (clearly trying to overcompensate for his regrettable Squirrel Nut Zippers period). This practice goes against all that is holy and if you do it, you are declaring your allegiance to Satan and your hatred of freedom. You are also admitting you stock your album with bullshit and are artistically bankrupt. And you just may cause me to start testing out that shower curtain, and you don't want that on your hands. 

Is It Me or Does Everything Suck Balls?

Is it me? Is it? Or has the stuff released so far this year just been awful? There are a few bright spots here and there but for the most part, things are just flat-out unimpressive. I know I need to start getting out reviews in a more timely and relevant fashion, but I don't want to even give these pieces o' feces full reviews, they don't even deserve that. 

Submitted for your dis-a-fucking-proval:

1) Animal Collective, 'Merriweather Post Pavilion': Like poorly made mashed potatoes, there are undercooked lumps interrupted by a vast mushy over-salted nothing. None of this means anything, it's just a bunch of noise and crap and the sounds of noisy people taking aural craps all over the place. I hate it. It reminds me of modern art: everyone pretends to like it, but see how fast they sign up for a trip to MoMA. Not very fucking fast, I'd say. What shit.

2) Andrew Bird, 'Noble Beast': Beastly. Boring. Pretentious. I liked his last album, but this is too much. You can tell this guy just has Wikipedia open the entire time he's writing songs. Come on, guy. Not since the Decemberists has someone waddled into this kind of absolute and total self-important mullarkey. That's right, youngsters, MULLARKEY. You're full of shit, guy. 

3) Glasvegas: Had to say it again. You're now on the list with Grizzly Bear. You owe me $9.99 for buying this shitshow. I should sooner have smeared shit on my ears and punched myself in the face than listen to this. 

4) Mostly Bears, 'The Ed Mitchell Clinic': Mostly bears? Mostly shit. 

5) Beirut, 'March of the Zapotec': It's Beirut, alright. Beirut in the '80s. 

6) Bruce Springsteen, 'Working On A Dream': So I don't like it that much. Bruce gets a pass if he puts out an album of polka classics set to the tune of bears eating their young. Bruce rules. See the Super Bowl, his life, and everyone else's lack of balls compared to him. Ask me how many times I will link to him sliding his bawwwwls into that camera. Many times. 

THANK YOU! THANK YOU AND GOODBYE, COLDPLAY!!!

You were terrible! And annoying! And somehow against all possibility, you made Gwyneth Paltrow seem even more smug and WASP-ishly horrifying! May something heavy fall on every single one of you! See here.