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FROG EYES- The Golden River
There is no need to be ashamed of one's taste in literature. Every book is
equal if read in the right way. The quibbling point, however, is that there is
no one right way; it's an issue of perspective. For example, should it be read
with quiet poise or should it be buried in the back garden? Who knows?
Perhaps the best thing is to stumble on through this noisome stumbling point,
loping along with the momentum. It's like trying to define the condition of
genius: impossible! Basically, you know it when you see it, if in bricklaying,
pop music, or whatever the case may be. If in a pinch, Victoria's Frog Eyes
provide a compelling answer to both debates: One, literature needs to be sung
loudly overtop of a sometimes-spooky carnivalesque caterwauling; and Two, Carey
Mercer is a fucking genius. As such, The Golden River is either a euphemism
for an endless drunken piss or the holy road to full enlightenment. In the
end, it's both, exactly both. Recommended.
CD 12.98 Sale |
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