I realised yesterday with a nasty jolt that I am one of those kind of music fans. The kind you are warned about. Possibly not by your mother. As no mother in her right mind concerns herself with such irrelevancy. She has far more sensible and grown up things to do with her time.
What I realised yesterday is that I might actually be something that I try not to be if I can. The most hideous and appalling music snob possible. Possibly not the kind that spends all his waking hours scouring Quietus, Pitchfork and The Wire reviews but a possibly equally scary alternative.
This realisation dawned on me on Monday evening. When I was slightly zonked out and sat at the spacious desk in my spaciouss room of the quite extaordinary Angel Hotel in the lovely Welsh town of Abergavenny.
I put on Avery Island, the first album by Rustin, Louisiana legends Neutral Milk Hotel. I've barely written about NMH in my ten years of writing this blog. I personally don't buy the cult of their second album; the seminal In The Aeroplane Over The Seam according to some, the sixteenth best album ever made.
Personally, apart from a few standout tracks I find In The Aeroplane a muddily produced and wilfully obscure and dare we say it 'pretentious' record. 'Pretentious' I refer you to the band's name. Anne Frank? You need to be careful and respectful before you co-opt certain narratives for your own artistic pirposes I'd say.
Personally I prefer Avery Island I realised and will play it again and possibly if I continue liking it purchase it one day. I won't at the moment write a detailed account of what exactly I prefer. I guess I'm just one of those people. The kind you are warned about.
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