Tag: Alan Sparhawk: White Roses My God

20 Alan Sparhawk: With Trampled by Turtles

~ Lex Leeson ~ Leave a comment

OK, can we first talk about that title? I’ve mostly seen it referred to as being an album called ‘With Trampled by Turtles’ released by your friend and mine Alan Sparhawk. Though I’ve often also seen the album title itself being just called ‘Alan Sparhawk With Trampled by Turtles‘. Which is fine. But which artist released this ‘Alan Sparhawk With Trampled by Turtles‘ album of which you speak? Why, that would be Alan Sparhawk and also Trampled by Turtles

you’re never too old to post thirst traps

OK, so bear with me here, explain it to me like I’m a four year old child: we’re at the twentieth best album of the year, and you want me to write that it’s Alan Sparhawk and Trumpled by Turtles: ‘Alan Sparhawk With Trampled by Turtles’?? Absolutely not, how much word count do you think they give me for these titles?! Anyway, I like the idea of the very title of the record being that of the supporting artist, it really sells just how central they are to the record’s sound. Trust me, we’re going to have similar issues with the #17 entry #ReaderRetention.

Don’t take your light out of me, Oh my god, please

#22 Zeal and Ardor: Greif

~ Lex Leeson ~ 2 Comments

It’s more like pineapple-on-pizza metal… we shouldn’t connect with certain kinds of metal fans, but they still appreciate us. Could we call it ‘Thinking-man’s pineapple pizza?’ Is that a valid compromise? It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but some people will still agree that it’s a pizza even though there’s a little forbidden fruit on there

Manuel Gagneux after being asked by Kerrang! if Zeal and Ardor made ‘Thinking-Man’s Metal’

I know what you’re thinking: yes, Kerrang! is still going and yes that’s the typeface they’re going with for the logo now. In this piece I shall argue that Zeal and Ardor should not be blamed for either of those things.

Hour Khamis Suleiman Al-Khateeb

#25 John Grant: The Art of the Lie

~ Lex Leeson ~ 1 Comment

I’ve got the poise of a newborn giraffe
And I feel like I’ve fallen off the wagon
My moves are quite clearly unchoreographed
My comportment like that of a Komodo dragon

…

You deactivate my defense mechanisms
I think I’m coming unglued, I have emotional whiplash
I cannot brandish my trademark aloof cynicism
I’ve taken up macramé, just to deal with the backlash

Marbles

Oh, what’s that, Alan Sparhawk, you’ve done some experimentation on your new album? Played around with vocal and electronic effects? Crafted something different than what you’ve done previously and embraced a new sonic guise with your new record? That’s cute.

Layan Abd Al-Karim Asaad Al-Dahshan

#28 Alan Sparhawk: White Roses, My God

~ Lex Leeson ~ 4 Comments

Grief is a funny old thing, ain’t it?

And I’m talking about real grief here. Yeah, I know that you were really sad when the guy who played Joey on ‘Home Improvement’ died, or whatever, but that’s not the kind of grief I’m talking about. Actual grief isn’t just sadness. I got sad when Manchester United were knocked out of the Champions League by Real Madrid at the quarter final stage in 2000, but I don’t think you could accurately claim that I went through the grieving process. Yes, Redondo took us so thoroughly apart in that game that I am still suffering from post-traumatic shock, but that’s a separate thing. Real grief is far deeper than that. Your gran dying in 2003 was definitely a solemn moment, but she was 98 years old; hadn’t been able to take a shit since the late 1980’s; had three separate tracheostomies; still smoked 40 fags a day by sticking it one of the holes in her throat; and would angrily complain about you not letting her watch the latest episode of Minder long after that show was canceled in 1994. Also, she was really racist. Like, a proper vintage racist who still used terms from the mid 20th century that everyone else has forgotten, so you never realised how hateful and bigoted she was being every time she called your friend Kai a “spam fritter”. Yeah, it was a bit of a bummer when Granny Edna died, and you definitely called it grief when you managed to fenangle three weeks off work, but, come on, you didn’t really give that much of shit.

Sobhi Hamdan Sobhi Hassouna