I was going to post a review of the new Fleet Foxes album, “Helplessness Blues,” that came out this week. The post was finished, complete with a strong opinion and an even stronger (if I do say so myself) mustache metaphor running throughout that would make my middle school English teacher very proud. After writing it, though, I thought better about posting it. There is certainly a time and a place for music reviews. But my half of this blog is not the place. Maybe you would read it and agree or decide to check out the album or what have you. I’d then pat myself on the back for a blog well done. Or maybe you would read it and think I was full of it. And that would be okay too. I’d smile and be thankful that there are lots of different opinions in the world, making life that much more entertaining, and move on with my day. So, in the end, who cares what I think about “Helplessness Blues.”
Besides, I wouldn’t even be saving you any money by offering you a sneak peak. You can listen to the album in it’s entirety (for free!) here: Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues
Instead, I’m going to do you an actual favor in the form of Sam Quinn + Japan Ten, a band that you probably wouldn’t just happen to stumble upon or see hashtagged (James, is that correct vernacular?) on twitter. Sam Quinn is one half of the former everybodyfields (Jill Andrews, the other), who broke my heart when they broke up in 2009. Their album “Nothing is Okay” is one of my favorites of all time. It is so utterly, simply, beautifully painful to listen to. Every word hurts. It physically hurts me inside. Sometimes I think I’ve played it enough times to be numb to it, but I am wrong every time. I wallow in it for hours, a glutton for the punishment, because the album is just. that. good.
Jill Andrews and Sam Quinn both have solo albums but his just has that intangible something that made me love [and hate] [and keep running back to] “Nothing is Okay.”
I enjoy this, I hope you do too. But maybe you won’t. And that’s okay too.