At work my co-workers and I have a little something we call the "album of the week". We post a CD and a review of an album to the bulletin board for the rest of the office to enjoy. It has gone largely unnoticed and I don't think anyone has actually taken advantage of it, but still, we persist. This week we've chosen to honor the new David Byrne and Brian Eno album Everything That Happens Will Happen Today. Usually Duffy finds a positive review via Allmusic or Pitchfork for the posting, but the lack of an advance release means that none of the major review sites will be posting those for a least a week or so. So Duffy went ahead and wrote a Pitchforkian review of it, and since I think this shit's hilarious, I'm posting it here. Enjoy...
I can still remember the summer of 1992 -- mowing lawns every day until my piggy bank was full. I rode my bike over to Groovestax and traded in those meager earnings without hesitation for a cassette tape of Kris Kross’ Totally Krossed Out. I can still hear the crinkling of the cellophane as I opened my prize. How many hours did I spend lying on my back, staring at the image of those two youngsters, with “Jump” blasting from the boombox and me unable to understand a single word of the new, as yet unfamiliar urban parlance?
A lot has changed since I bought my first album, but thankfully David Byrne and Brian Eno have not. In this long-awaited follow-up to their 1981 My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, the duo deliver a nice pup to the doorstep of your very own pre-fab dreamhouse, nestled in the suburbs of your alienated, modern, CGI mind. I haven’t really listened to the whole thing yet, but I can tell I won’t need to – the Devil is still in Byrne’s teeth, and Eno’s knack for studio wizardry seems only to have improved with age.
You can’t buy this one in the record stores (yet), but kids today won’t need to. Even if they did, they couldn’t. Because record stores aren’t selling it. But what kid worth his salt wants to go to a dusty old record store anyways? They probably don’t even know what a “record” is. Bunch of punks. Their parents don’t teach them any respect. I shudder to think where the country might be headed in 20 or 30 years.
--Tavis Giarzhiccienne, PitchforkMedia.com
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