You and I (how we used how we used to dance)
New soldout writer Liz is on a freaking roll. First, she proves herself right about The Con. Then, she somehow uncovers the fact that I've never heard Imogen Heap's "Hide And Seek" on a night that I needed a good, gut-wrenching, life-ending cry. And, as though she needed to make it a total coup, she introduced me to my new favorite band-Brooklyn's The Bloodsugars.
The Bloodsugars debut album I Can't Go On, I'll Go On is, for lack of any better words (and believe me, I've tried to think of them) a complete rush of blood to the head. It's a charming, witty pop record that shapeshifts as it rocks and moves. The jerky, warm album opener "Light At The End Of The Tunnel", is a car commercial or Scrubs intro waiting to happen (quick, someone ring Alex Patsavas now), and is the song on the album I've seen most gravitate towards. In my repeated listenings, though, I can't get over I Can't Go On, I'll Go On's second song, "The Pedestrian Boogie".
The Bloodsugars: The Pedestrian Boogie
What I get from this song is the feeling of the warm embrace of US-era Peter Gabriel-electric lamps and rain-slick streets and a little love caught in the throat. You know, the stuff those Vampire Weekend boys can't quite muster when they tap the same well. In an email with Liz, she mentioned "The Pedestrian Boogie" conjuring, for her, Passion Pit calmed the fuck down and grown up a bit. It's not just that, though, because there's a slightly tethered guitar solo in there that pulls on the heavy clouds of longing that drift through the whole song-and that guitar, as well as the handclaps (god I'm a sucker for those handclaps), made "The Pedestrian Boogie" a stand out moment of the I Can't Go On, I'll Go On album release party this past weekend.
I'm obsessed with this one song now, but the whole album is a grower, though-I mean, I'm already rewinding back and forth to hear the end of the closing song "Before The Accident", so who knows where my head will be in another month. Or in a week. Or tomorrow.
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