Drove to Chicago...All things Know, All Things Know.
Attention, those who would not let Lee-and-Josh-&-Sarah-&-I
Have Our Way With the Speakers In the Lounge
(and other cordial jokes...I promise):
Regardless of whether or not you hail/rail against Pitchfork Media,
the list of the Top Fifty Albums of 2005 is up (and has probably been up for some amount of time,) and the one-and-only MR. SUFJAN STEVENS has produced the number-one album of the year. (HUZZAH, SUFJAN! DOWN WITH PITCHFORK FOR EXPLOITING THE SOFT-SPOKEN LORD OF THE BANJO AND EXPOSING HIM TO MASS POPULAR ATTENTIONS!)
Although I found the songs fetching only because of the incessant references to "Metropolis," and because it helped me better stomach all of those pages of critical lore concerning Mayor Daley The First, this occassion merits both a collective "YES!" for Michigan and some moments of silence for John Wayne Gacy, Jr.
For those of you involved in Sufjan-condemnation during our weeks at Danforth,
it is time to Feel the Illinoise, and other kitsch-sy things that I'm not good at saying.
If you've no idea what I am talking about, but want to join the cult of Sufjan anyway, click below:
http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/top/2005/index5.shtml
http://www.asthmatickitty.com/main.php
Your Folkish Correspondent,
Jessi.
Also. Colin Meloy's girlfriend is having his child, and the Decemberists are signed to Capitol,
and I have relinquished any and all ties to independent rock.
Post-Script: I AM GOING TO THE POST-OFFICE, BEWARE!!!
Post-Post-Script: And to those of you (ahem!) seeing Mr. Stevens at the Lincoln Center,
with "strings, horns, and a full band,"...you have all of my love and well-wishes.
I'll be crying here in Ohio, and hoping that my shoddy home state will be the next place immortalized by our charming Sufjan.
Have Our Way With the Speakers In the Lounge
(and other cordial jokes...I promise):
Regardless of whether or not you hail/rail against Pitchfork Media,
the list of the Top Fifty Albums of 2005 is up (and has probably been up for some amount of time,) and the one-and-only MR. SUFJAN STEVENS has produced the number-one album of the year. (HUZZAH, SUFJAN! DOWN WITH PITCHFORK FOR EXPLOITING THE SOFT-SPOKEN LORD OF THE BANJO AND EXPOSING HIM TO MASS POPULAR ATTENTIONS!)
Although I found the songs fetching only because of the incessant references to "Metropolis," and because it helped me better stomach all of those pages of critical lore concerning Mayor Daley The First, this occassion merits both a collective "YES!" for Michigan and some moments of silence for John Wayne Gacy, Jr.
For those of you involved in Sufjan-condemnation during our weeks at Danforth,
it is time to Feel the Illinoise, and other kitsch-sy things that I'm not good at saying.
If you've no idea what I am talking about, but want to join the cult of Sufjan anyway, click below:
http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/top/2005/index5.shtml
http://www.asthmatickitty.com/main.php
Your Folkish Correspondent,
Jessi.
Also. Colin Meloy's girlfriend is having his child, and the Decemberists are signed to Capitol,
and I have relinquished any and all ties to independent rock.
Post-Script: I AM GOING TO THE POST-OFFICE, BEWARE!!!
Post-Post-Script: And to those of you (ahem!) seeing Mr. Stevens at the Lincoln Center,
with "strings, horns, and a full band,"...you have all of my love and well-wishes.
I'll be crying here in Ohio, and hoping that my shoddy home state will be the next place immortalized by our charming Sufjan.
posted by goodbye, goodbye at 12:27 PM
5 Comments:
Shall this one be deleted, as well?
I try my hardest.
Oh dear.
That statement defies both proper grammatics and aesthetic linguistics.
But maybe this admittance makes up for it.
Deleted?
... I just happen to know nothing about Sufjan Stevens, except for that his nickname was "Cat."
oh god DONT DELETE ENTRIES. THIS IS A HISTORICAL DOCUMENT. AHHH.
Oh, Lee, but what if he were! Would if we could only imagine the possibilities!
Indeed, Jimmy, I held my tongue in commenting to the previous--I am quite sure that a comparison of our Sufjan to the outlawed artist formerly known as Cat is blasphemy of the highest sort. But Cat Stevens, too, is quite close to my heart...
O, Sufjan.
If New Albany merits a Sufjan song, I shall be eternally vindicated, though I would rather he preserve his glory for things of more subtle beauty.
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