North American Scum
I’m sure Pitchfork considers both James Murphy and George Lewis Jr. to be among the world’s coollest people. I don’t know if I’d be able to stomach the presence of either of them for more than ten minutes, but I can spin their albums repeatedly. Murphy’s the more talented of the two, relying on irony all too often to poke fun at what he won’t say himself—hence his felt prickishness. Lewis is the opposite, posing as a loverboy wearing his heart on his sleeve when in reality he’s a coke snorting womanizer. So if you’re one of those who can’t put aside reality for at least forty minutes, don’t bother with the recommendations.
LCD SOUNDSYSTEM – London Sessions (EMI/DFA ’11): Live in the studio performance loosens the computer’s grip and succeeds on the band’s tight, top-notch performance (which somehow manages to humanize James Murphy), resulting in a veritable best-of of sorts that occasionally trumps originals: “Drunk Girls” and “Daft Punk is Playing at My House” benefit especially while personal favorites like “I Can Change” or “Get Innocuous!” offer unorthodoxy that repays with replays. A
TWIN SHADOW – Confess (4AD): How I wish George Lewis Jr.’s adopted troubadour persona was even remotely likeable compared to the John Hughes semblables his super-synth soundtrack caters. Critics’ asinine notion to filter Lewis’s worldview through his “life-changing” motorcycle accident as fodder for lovelorn lyrics paint themselves bigger buffoons by pretending what’s most appealing is anything but the unabashed Everything 80’s All the Time dance stance—just because he penned a novel doesn’t mean he has anything to say. Same goes for these songs incidentally having words—doesn’t mean there’s anything else to do but hear. A MINUS