Red Mosquito

Jorge wrote:Not saying it was anybody fault, but yeah, Chud was definitely a controversial figure for a time here and widely despised, then he settled onto a King of GD thing around 2009ish and then later the sort of non-entity he's become

Jorge wrote:The Beef clique were the de-facto rulers of GD at the time and held a lot of power and influence in the community, before a partly Chud-influenced board exodus. Chud was welcomed at first but once the truth of his betrayal was revealed her was declared public enemy number one. One day I will write a book about this whole ordeal

doug rr wrote:i've never clicked the thread but am i in the minority here of people who don't care at all for arcade fire?

washing machine wrote:I'm not sure I ever really and truly liked them, but I bought into the hype for a time. Their music seems full and interesting but it's actually pretty bland.

tree_ wrote:

washing machine wrote:I'm not sure I ever really and truly liked them, but I bought into the hype for a time. Their music seems full and interesting but it's actually pretty bland.

What makes it interesting is their unabashed emotional enthusiasm. I don’t care too much for the music part of it either, generally. Similar to Father John Misty for me except with him it’s mostly the lyrics that captivate me. And his singing ability is pretty awesome, technically

washing machine wrote:

tree_ wrote:

washing machine wrote:I'm not sure I ever really and truly liked them, but I bought into the hype for a time. Their music seems full and interesting but it's actually pretty bland.

What makes it interesting is their unabashed emotional enthusiasm. I don’t care too much for the music part of it either, generally. Similar to Father John Misty for me except with him it’s mostly the lyrics that captivate me. And his singing ability is pretty awesome, technically

It's similar to a Christian praise and worship in verve. Unabashed emotional enthusiasm is an apt description.

tree_ wrote:

washing machine wrote:

tree_ wrote:

washing machine wrote:I'm not sure I ever really and truly liked them, but I bought into the hype for a time. Their music seems full and interesting but it's actually pretty bland.

What makes it interesting is their unabashed emotional enthusiasm. I don’t care too much for the music part of it either, generally. Similar to Father John Misty for me except with him it’s mostly the lyrics that captivate me. And his singing ability is pretty awesome, technically

It's similar to a Christian praise and worship in verve. Unabashed emotional enthusiasm is an apt description.

I agree with that. It’s about declaring to the universe that you’re here for it, no matter what it has in store, and then dance-crying all over the place like a lunatic, and then feeling all the better for it. The music is just the canvas for it.

E.H. Ruddock wrote:Steve albini

doug rr wrote:i've never clicked the thread but am i in the minority here of people who don't care at all for arcade fire?

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.