Friday, July 07, 2006

"The Boy In Green. Would You Please Shut Up?"

Don't call me boring, it's just 'cause I like you.

Alright, this is the first post in quite a bit, and I sincerely apologise for that. Have been trying to rush projects before the looming deadlines, and it has pretty much taken it's toll on me. I hate Thursdays.

Shledule has been absolutely tight, and lecturers have been hell. On Tuesdays, I get a feminine male lecturer who is uptight on just about anything, everything. On Wednesday, I get a female lecturer bordering on racist, and rather incidently, hates me. Well, not because of my skin colour, if that's what you're thinking. It's because I keep talking in her class. Usually I get away with these things, but on one unfortunate Wednesday, she paused about 4-5 times in a 2-hour lecture to reprimand me.

Okay, here's why I was flavour du jour on that day. Firstly, I was wearing green, in a room chock full of black and whites. Secondly, I was wearing my 'professor' spectacles (as my mum likes to call it) on that day. And thirdly, I was the only other person awake/not distracted with the lecture. So, you can probably equate this; a lecture presentation, littered with spelling errors, grammatical errors, and extreme-right wing views, and me paying attention, probably equates trouble. There wasn't a thing she said, that I couldn't laugh at. And my various jibes at the lecturer (to Sufian, who was sitting next to me), could be heard throughout the room, as everyone was bored into submission/slumberland. So she could hear every smart remark I said. Well, it's not my fault, I was only paying attention.

"The boy in green. Why are you laughing?"
"Your lecture is hilarious."
"No it isn't. If it were funny I would have laughed. Now keep quiet."

Well, lady. No good comedians laugh at their own jokes. But her rebuttal was a source of considerable mirth. Her lecture was funny alright. Not that she intended it with the spelling errors and all. And on Thursdays, I have a lecturer bordering on communist (and I don't mean the haircut).

Ah, c'est la vie.

Okay, hope I didn't bore you too much with the rant there. Here's today's featured band, Voxtrot. One of my favourite bands ever. And I reckon, the backbone of every indie playlist out there. Heh. It's really hard to encapsulate this band's sound in a paragraph, much less a blog post. But I'll try anyways; it comes as a cross between the old Stone Roses and (definately) Belle and Sebestian. And sometimes with a hint of melancholy thrown in. Think LEVY or Interpol. You'll love Voxtrot if you're a fan of The Mystery Jets, The Smiths, and (or) Pine Club.

The songs off the
Raised By Wolves EP/Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives EP sound like poetic rebuttals written on the back of a napkin, then rocked out in an empty basement. That's my take on it. Here's what Pitchfork thinks; "[I]t's okay for somebody to be into both Throbbing Gristle and Belle and Sebastian," Voxtrot's Ramesh Srivastava writes on his blog, "and I'm pretty sure that's a good thing." When Srivastava moved to Glasgow at the age of 19, he'd already written the tracks that would comprise the Raised By Wolves EP, songs with deft arrangments and charming melodies that evoke Belle & Sebastian, Morrissey, and the Lucksmiths, but with jagged, rumbling guitars remindful of early Cure and, sometimes, Joy Division. Srivastava immersed himself in Glasgow's nightclub scene, developing a particularly strong affinity for Optimo. The commingling of his jangle-pop roots and his newfound love of dance music is writ large in the Texas-based band's turbocharged twee.

Yes, that means good.

You can buy Voxtrot's EPs at their website. Because I'm pretty sure HMV doesn't have it. Or it would have been sitting on my CD rack right now. Oh, and you can read
Ramesh Srivastava's blog here.

All Highly Recommended:
Voxtrot - "Mothers, Sisters, Daughters and Wives"
Voxtrot - "The Start of Something"
Voxtrot - "The Warmest Part of the Winter"

I'll return tomorrow with either Ariel Pink or Spoon. Or maybe both.

See you tomorrow then.

Forza Italia!


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