Every Compiler’s Boob
Yes, unfortunately, this whole placing is A Bit of A Boob™, and may well expose the entire business of how I compile my albums of the year
See, a lot of the time- maybe most of the time- when I’m compiling my end of year lists (well, firstly I attempt to do them at the actual end of the year, but let’s gloss over that) I take great care in assessing each possible entrant: spend a day or so with them, assess their strengths, their weaknesses, go to the promenade, etch a postcard (“How I dearly wish I was not here”), try to get a complete image of each releases worth, and attempt to decide what place it deserves to take on that year’s Necessary Evil countdown. It’s an extremely important and delicate process, as I am deciding where artist land on a list which is unarguably the highlight of many of their careers.
I mean, sure, yeah, whatever: even this method isn’t foolproof : despite the insane amount of work that I put into compiling 2016’s top 117 list, there were still major mistakes. In comiling the list I began to notice that Zeal and Ardor’s album was an absolute masterpiece, and even as I shunted it up the list again and again as I prepared to release it, and still its disgraceful eventual placing of 84 was an absolute mark against the legitimacy and credibility of the whole endevour. Once again, I apologise to both Mr Zeal and Mr Ardor, and to all my readers (both of you), my family and, of course, God.
For Necessary Evil 2017 though, time was of the essence. Mental frailness and the odd emotional breakdown had pushed me so far behind real time that (kayfabe) this year’s list had to be finished as soon as possible, with the aim of finishing before the Manic Street Preachers inevitably disappointing 13th (!!) album on April 13th.
So, I spent one evening collating all the records likely to be included and quickly listing them in what I thought to be the correct order of quality. I’ve already noticed a few minor boobs (there are at least two albums yet to feature that are far inferior to what’s already appeared) but the largest and most hideously saggy boob has reared itself here, as there is no way in God’s sweet hell that Mogwai deserve to be as low as No.50
I. Freaking. Love. Mogwai.
I mean properly love them. I have the choice to love literally any musical act in the world, and the internet has broadened my horizons so absolutely that I could potentially discover and love any music that’s produced in any corner of the world. But I choose to love a group of grumpy balding men from Glasgow.
If you’re lucky or your standards are low enough to have a partner, you might convince yourself that you love them. Which you might kinda do, but you love them in a different way: you love them because they came into your life at an extremely opportune time, you love them because they fulfil certain needs that you have around your lifestyle, and they work quite usefully around your work cycle, and they hug you while you watch trash telly, because literally every human, deep down, just wants to be hugged quite a lot. There were precious other contenders at the time, your partner was definitely the best option available at the time, and you didn’t want to risk the long periods of loneliness that searching for someone better may entail, so you settled. You love your partner because you chose to settle for them.
That’s why my love for Mogwai is far more legitimate: I didn’t just settle for them, I chose to love them despite infinite options. If some band better than Mogwai comes along, perhaps I’ll leave Mogwai and go and love them instead. Or maybe just love them both. They’ll be no bad feelings, and nobody will get hurt. It’s love at its purest form: unrequited.
Christ, I need a girlfriend…
This album’s fucking awesome, because of course it is…
Also, it inspired a light box show:
Unfortunately, and perhaps even legitimately ironically, I had to take that picture at day time
Average Age: 42 (+6)
Album Length: 56 (-10)
Very Good Songs: 5 (+10)
Brilliant Songs: 6 (+30)
AMAZING Songs: 1 (+10)
% of Album Worthwhile: 100
Aye, it’s a pretty fuckin’ belter cover, no?
‘Rave Tapes’, man, what an album
Meta Critic: 79
*I feel OK using the word ‘bitch’ when not referring to a woman, much like you may occasionally find me calling rather odious gentlemen ‘cunts’, but never women. If you find you have any problems with my use of language, by all means please honestly let me know
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