I flush everything Pitchfork has written down the toilet. The fake emotional cries have not penetrated Murphy's writing; they have not chipped away at its thick layer of perfection.
1) the music: hammering piano ta-ta, driving rhythm section.
2) the lyrics: everything good that's possible within evil. The disillusionments left in the past, the loss of too-important appointments, the loss of girls, innocence, drugs that promise and don't deliver.
Aging. Aging while attempting to do something that never succeeds. Straying from safe pathways to insist on uncertain Tibetan bridges, stumbling through misty nights in a Lynchian loneliness, wrapped in all of the above. And that scream, insistent, repeated, forced: "if I could see all my friends tonight".
Simply the track of the year. Simply a bitter reflection on thirty-somethings, twenty-five-year-olds, and the invisible ages of those who have turned to look for the receipts of what they had already mistakenly purchased.
Tracklist
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