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neumu
Friday, November 24, 2017 
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Editor's note: We have activated the Neumu 44.1 kHz Archive. Use the link at the bottom of this list to access hundreds of Neumu reviews.

+ Donato Wharton - Body Isolations
+ Svalastog - Woodwork
+ Tim Hecker - Harmony In Ultraviolet
+ Rosy Parlane - Jessamine
+ Jarvis Cocker - The Jarvis Cocker Record
+ Múm - Peel Session
+ Deloris - Ten Lives
+ Minimum Chips - Lady Grey
+ Badly Drawn Boy - Born In The U.K.
+ The Hold Steady - Boys And Girls Together
+ The Blood Brothers - Young Machetes
+ The Places - Songs For Creeps
+ Camille - Le Fil
+ Wolf Eyes - Human Animal
+ Christina Carter - Electrice
+ The Decemberists - The Crane Wife
+ Junior Boys - So This Is Goodbye
+ Various Artists - Musics In The Margin
+ Rafael Toral - Space
+ Bob Dylan - Modern Times
+ Excepter - Alternation
+ Chris Thile - How To Grow A Woman From The Ground
+ Brad Mehldau - Live in Japan
+ M Ward - Post-War
+ Various Artists - Touch 25
+ The Mountain Goats - Get Lonely
+ The White Birch - Come Up For Air
+ Camera Obscura - Let's Get Out of This Country
+ Coachwhips - Double Death
+ Various Artists - Tibetan And Bhutanese Instrumental And Folk Music, Volume 2
+ Giuseppe Ielasi - Giuseppe Ielasi
+ Cex - Actual Fucking
+ Sufjan Stevens - The Avalanche
+ Leafcutter John - The Forest And The Sea
+ Carla Bozulich - Evangelista
+ Barbara Morgenstern - The Grass Is Always Greener
+ Robin Guthrie - Continental
+ Peaches - Impeach My Bush
+ Oakley Hall - Second Guessing
+ Klee - Honeysuckle
+ The Court & Spark - Hearts
+ TV On The Radio - Return To Cookie Mountain
+ Awesome Color - Awesome Color
+ Jenny Wilson - Love And Youth
+ Asobi Seksu - Citrus
+ Marsen Jules - Les Fleurs
+ The Moore Brothers - Murdered By The Moore Brothers
+ Regina Spektor - Begin To Hope
+ The 1900s - Plume Delivery EP
+ Alejandro Escovedo - The Boxing Mirror
+ Function - The Secret Miracle Fountain
+ Sonic Youth - Rather Ripped
+ Loscil - Plume
+ Boris - Pink
+ Deadboy And The Elephantmen - We Are Night Sky
+ Glissandro 70 - Glissandro 70
+ Calexico - Garden Ruin (Review #2)
+ Calexico - Garden Ruin (Review #1)
+ The Flaming Lips - At War With The Mystics
+ The Glass Family - Sleep Inside This Wheel
+ Various Artists - Songs For Sixty Five Roses
+ The Fiery Furnaces - Bitter Tea
+ Motorpsycho - Black Hole/Blank Canvas
+ The Red Krayola - Introduction
+ Metal Hearts - Socialize
+ American Princes - Less And Less
+ Sondre Lerche And The Faces Down Quartet - Duper Sessions
+ Supersilent - 7
+ Band Of Horses - Everything All The Time
+ Dudley Perkins - Expressions
+ Growing - Color Wheel
+ Red Carpet - The Noise Of Red Carpet
+ The Essex Green - Cannibal Sea
+ Espers - II
+ Wilderness - Vessel States

44.1 kHz Archive



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artist
Adam Gnade
recording
Run Hide Retreat Surrender
Loud And Clear
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rating


His dancing words fall languidly from his lips, slipping away scarred and lazy, as if he knows his life too well to want to know it anymore, to even care anymore. But here it is anyway, the life he's found, the one he's felt and wrapped inside beautiful prose that falls away all tired and in motion, so simple, so revealing and so true, it could easily be mistaken for you. Do you really want to live it anymore when it feels ill-fitting and blue?

The details, pain-stricken and despairingly real, are as unmistakable as the taste of blood and the way you know it's your own. He murmurs and speaks, not like a speaker, but rather clearing his throat, fumbling his words and licking his dry lips like an everyday someone who confesses their darkest moments, sorry and sad, heavy and dumb, like he's suffering stuck under someone else's thumb.

Sometimes he talks to you like he talks to himself, without thinking, only expressing, just kicking it out with unintended honesty and angry defiance. He grumbles the way you grumble when the buzzer shakes you from your slumber to remind you of the life that you have to live and the whoever is responsible that you'll never be able to forgive.

"Fuck your deadlines, fuck your editors, fuck friends, fuck responsibility, fuck living long, fuck getting up in the morning, fuck writing the big things," spoken-word artist Adam Gnade rants on "Shout the Battle Cry for Freedom." "Your wine bottle is rising from between your legs like a dark glass lighthouse and you laugh, your teeth slop red, black of wine and crooked smile."

He glides naturally between sneeringly cursing, spitting back at the world, and delivering strings of gorgeous, hand-picked words strung together like they were meant for no other, like they invented each other. He sounds somber and acquiescent, like he's come to terms with what it means to be alive and has, although pained, accepted being a part of it.

"From outside the window, you would see a symphony in tragic comedy, and song and dance blues, election year blues, wartime blues, love life blues, growing up blues," he says on "The Winter," allowing his words to slur together gently as a sad, dramatic guitar line comes and goes like a rising lump in your throat.

He recorded himself raw and intimate; you can feel the disappointment in his voice and the click of the tape roll by, capturing the poems he scribbled in a notebook on darker nights, maybe winter nights, maybe drunken nights. He holds nothing back, intent on sharing his love for words and the way they make watery rhythms when combined just so, intent on sharing his life experiences and the thoughts that played in his head while enduring them, that played in his head never knowing they'd ever be let go.

"Your parents are getting older, you see it over the table on dinner visits, more like hospital visits than family time," he shrugs as a tinny guitar groans gravely behind simple taps at the hi-hat and bass, concluding with strategically placed cymbal crashes.

"You need to go to the doctor, she says, I feel like I'm losing it, you say," Gnade says, sounding aloof and empty on "Shout the Battle Cry for Freedom." "I feel like I got a demon in my head, you say, what do you need me for, she says, I feel like I'm already dead, you say, you're so selfish, she says, don't leave me... don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me."

Listening to Gnade is hard and depressing in a gracious kind of way — gracious because it forces the gap between artist and audience away, because it captures so closely the anguished frustration inside. Whether it's his or yours‚ it's difficult to decide.

"But then you're driving again, the sun is out, and the summer shade from trees tiger stripes the road, you are together again and you are heading home," he sighs, like it's OK, or at least it can be at times, while delicate acoustics tinkle behind him.

"Apologies made and nothing resolved, nothing is resolved," he later continues, "Life is still a big hanging, sulking mystery ... of too much damage done, maybe, but together and heading home, you are heading home."


by Jenny Tatone




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