Blake Schwarzenbach did earnestly claim, in his trademark anti-croon,
“all I want is a life without parties…” and I did swoon.
Despite this, I am enjoying Ink Jet’s Could Shoulder. This, despite the
misnomer. There is nary an ounce of under-heated mutton within 1983730983 miles
of this album. The grooves upon grooves upon grooves of funk & cultish
call-and-response themes do nothing but pull even the most advanced anti-IDM
soul into its most blackest hole, where all bad moods/’tudes go to a
death-by-trampling.
Maybe it’s the perfect bass tone. Maybe it’s the shimmering synth
washes weaving in and out of other idiosyncratic flutish melodies. Maybe it’s
the fact that the metronomic 4/4 beat isn’t blaring, but at a respectable
mid-level (though, begrudgingly, I still wish it were so, so, so, so, so much
lower) throughout. Maybe I’m making my peace with Saturday night. Who the hell
knows.
One thing’s for sure; if you don’t think techno is a dirty word, give
this thoughtful neck-wiggler a concerted listen, with and without headphones.
and/or
-- Jacob
An Kittenplan
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