This album is just…
…
…
…
Lovely
+27
I haven’t got much to say about it, I think I exhausted my creative juices on the previous Kanye critique- or Kanyique, if you will- and now I’m just enjoying relaxing and listening to an effortless and gorgeously produced album
+46
I know absolutely nothing about Marissa Nadler, apart from the fact that ‘nadler’ sounds like the early Victorian term for ne’er-do-wells who attempted to cop a feel under ladies petticoats on crowded stagecoaches
+40
Did we have stagecoaches? What did we have in Victorian times? Didn’t we ride elephants or some shit?
+25
That was a fucking stella reference, that I can guarantee not one sod reading this thing will get. Fuck, my comedy is so wasted! I feel like Jerry Sadowitz when he hosted ‘Family Fortunes’ <not sure that happened- Ed>
The weather doesn’t ‘end’, Marissa, you dumbarse. It might change, but it’s not just going to freaking end is it?? God, that’s lazy writing
-2
Talking of ‘lazy writing’, did you notice how my critiques of Spalding, Iggy and White Lung were a little short and rushed? Well, I got back late yesterday evening and wanted to bash them all out before the Champions’ League started at 7:30, so knocked those lazy pieces out in about 45 minutes. Turns out there’s no Champions’ League this week, so I ended up farting out three lazy, hurried and empty reviews for no reason. <You could have gone back to them after you realised there was no football- Ed> Nah, I really wanted to finish reading ‘The Ballad of Halo Jones’ <I think that to refer to looking through a comic as ‘reading’ seems like a bit of an insult to proper books- Ed>
I was listening to this record as I travelled to Ashton town centre today to attend a meaningless interview at the Job Cente. Outside the Job Centre I sat on a bench and ate a cheese and onion pasty, and realising that I still had time to kill I aimlessly wandered around a few shops. Eventually I decided to camp out in the Job Centre’s waiting area. When my name was called I realised that I didn’t have my walking stick, and asked the Job Centre worker to wait two seconds while I ran to the bench- where I had obviously forgot my stick– and retrieve it. I started to hobble out of the door, but I was called back by a security guard saying how I couldn’t leave my bag unattended.
I picked up my bag and hopped outside. My stick was nowhere to be seen.
I returned to the Job Centre and ignored everything that was said to me as I wondered how I was going to make the 20-30 minute walk back home without my stick. The security guard told me to move my bag again. Nobody cared that I had just lost my walking stick. The Job Centre worker asked to confirm whether I could do jobs sitting down.
After the Job Centre interview I asked in the shops near the bench whether anyone had handed in a stick. The staff at Specsavers and Natwest were bemused by my suggestion.
I asked a security guard whether anyone had handed a stick in, and he recalled how someone had taken it from the bench and walked off with it, Some cunt had stolen my walking stick. I had left it on the bench for maybe 5 minutes.
The security guard took me to a shop that sold sticks. I couldn’t afford them. He shrugged his shoulders and suggested I get a bus home.
I was in so much pain as I dragged myself out of the city centre, and seeping hot bile from every crevasse. Many people become more right wing as they get angry, I go the other way: as I hobbled my way home I cursed the capitalist system that encourages people to only act in ways that benefit themselves, and to not consider the debilitating effect your actions have on fellow humans.
I passed Pound Stretcher and idly enquired if they sold walking sticks. Of course they didn’t.
However, balanced against the wall I saw a wooden broom on offer for £1.99
I bought the broom and was re=energised with delight at my cunning and ingenious flexibility, and used the broom to make my way home a fucking champion!
+30
Metacritic: +76
Length: 45 minutes +1
Best Lyric: ‘Fasted for 60 days, wore white/Abstained from mirrors, abstained from sex/Slowly did not speak another word’ +1
Number of AMAZING songs: 1 (+10)
…But Are All the Rest of the Songs Kinda Amazing Anyway?
Defo! Jesus, why did I tell that story about my stick?
5 thoughts on “35 Marissa Nadler: Strangers”