"When I say War, you say Hol. War!.........c'mooon".
Pop songs. Danced to, kissed to, jesus some people even make babies to these things. No matter how 'existencial' and 'enlightening' your brothers post-rock-brit-electronica-indie-progressive-punk band is, there is something endearing, nay, essencial about a good pop song. Even better however, are those pop songs that harbour the very spirit of that dancing, that kissing, and that....baby making. From common people to another girl another planet, pop songs are the soundtrack to one million jilted dances, lonley kisses and...you get it. Lapels are a terrifying and beautiful collage of passive nihalism and slakerdom. Pop culture is raped, mutated, then tucked between the verbs, song by song. Lapels write songs about intergalatic pink panzer troopes hunting dead pop artists. Odes to lost time travellers. Nods to beat poets, and hymns for bus stops. Lapels write songs about love and time travel. And really, what else is there?
"I like to think I listen to a wide variety of music, from the mainest of mainstream to the most underground of local bands. As such, a lot of music just washes over me without making any real impression. It takes the most exceptional of music to really stir up any kind of emotional response in me. Lapels certainly inspire such a response.
Emotions like rage. Pure, unadulterated rage that I have wasted precious minutes of my life listening to this utter drivel. Rage tempered with a sense of melancholy that someone has seen something marketable in this abortion of a record, and at the fact that they will probably have heavy rotation on Scuzz for about a week then fade into obscurity.
Crap, crap crap. Stupid song titles too"
0 out of 10
by Will Slater.
