Author of "The Birth And Impact Of Britpop: Mis-Shapes, Scenesters And Insatiable Ones"
Think Celestial.
If you don’t believe you can get to Heaven - you won’t make it.
If you think perfection is an impossible dream - you won’t achieve it.
Thank God for Milange.
In all likelihood this Glasgow four piece would find a conservative (small “c” darling hearts), middle-aged, balding, slightly doughy, tired, and tiresome chap such as I…something other than thrilling. The very idea that my opinion on what they are doing would matter, or make any difference, is beyond ludicrous.
Despite that I cannot remain silent.
How could I?
When Jesus walked to the top of the Mount of Transfiguration he didn’t go alone. He took witnesses to the events he knew would there transpire. As his face shone, his raiment became white as light, and Moses and Elijah appeared, Peter, James and John were there to bare witness.
And so as I listen to “Manish” on a loop I too must bare witness to the glories I am experiencing. Here is youth and fire.
Here is the natural result of evenings spent huddled over post-punk, riot grrrrl, and worshipping Kathleen Hanna in all of her forms (possibly the one true God). This is a delicious mix of Huggy Bear, Voodoo Queens, Sleater Kinney, Bikini Kill, and all cut through with the sort of “Yes we really are this good” attitude that separates the wheat from the musical chaff.
Amen.
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