"Thought it was an alien. Turned out to be, just, God"

Positive vibes!

Okay, so I realize that the last couple of posts may have got ya'll down. I know you didn't come here to listen to me whine and proselytize. You've got problems of your own. But, you should know that I am not always such a curmudgeon. In fact, I'm generally quite amicable.  I'm a funny guy and people fucking love me, yo. And so, in the spirit of being not a Negative Nancy, but choosing instead to spread the so-called P.M.A., we'll listen to an album that is on the gentler, happier side of the coin.
Built to Spill has put out enough material and done enough hard work for them to warrant little introduction. But, maybe, like me, you spend most of your listening hours enjoying the audio equivalent of a freight train full of hogs crashing through the backlot of the world's biggest gangbang/orgy whilst the babbling ghost of cracked-out Whiney Houston juggles chainsaws. In that case, study up: Doug Martsch, Tree People, Idaho. Can I still call this Indie Rock, even though it was released on a very Major Label? Well, it's very easy on the ears, and sometimes I just don't need to be fucking screamed at. I guess it's not, technically speaking, a "happy" album. After all, it is dedicated to Pat Brown after his suicide. But it is about as happy as my collection gets. There is definitely a lot of Classic Rock present here, whilst still maintaining that outsider - indie- quirkiness. Pavement meets Neil Young? It's, uhh... great for "mellow" days. Pipe, and slippers, and a cozy spot to relax, mayhaps? It's cool, our problems will wait for us.

"Seeing? It seems minor, to me..."(DL)

"Bloated on Mammalian Flesh"

IllCon Illuminati. This 6 song Apocryphon disc was discovered in a cave located outside modern day Afghanistan by Ancient Astronaut Theorist, Giorgio A. Tsoukalos. Nearby were a pile of post-Cretaceous period fossils and humanoid remains. Tsoukalos has speculated that "The demented tones contained within this recording were probably made by aliens, maybe. It definitely is advanced technology, and the square shape of the wooden container leads me to believe that it was manufactured by extra-terrestrials, because aliens like four sided things. Like the pyramids. Totally aliens. Probably." Other "experts"

Expert.

have agreed that the guitar-shreddery is definitely super-human, and the vocals far too disgusting to be created by human vocal organs. The thunderous cacophony of the drums call to mind the hideous rites performed by the Tcho-tcho peoples, as captured in field recordings by noted Occult Scientist, Obed Marsh (RIP). [Also, there is some killer bass playing. However, this is a metal record, so we're just gonna ignore it. - Ed.] According to legend, the Tcho-tchos descended from a race of dwarfs known as the Miri Nigri, who in turn were created from the flesh of prehistoric reptiles. The Tcho-tchos indulged in an unknown hallucinogenic compound during their worship of the Great Old One, Hastur. Ceremonies involved orgiastic frenzy and human and animal sacrifices. Expert Theorists have speculated that Apocryphon was one such cult of The Unspeakable One. To listen to this recording may cause one to become possessed by Hastur. In that event, one's bones become gelatinous, the skin turns to scales, and they will become the embodiment of entropy. I highly recommend it.

Mortals bow before your masters (DL)

Give them some money for stuff here.

Now Hiring, Assholes

I really like doing this blog, but I don't get around to posting all that often. Sometimes I'm busy. Sometimes I'm lazy. I mean, just look at my post history on the right - totally slacking. It's hard keeping a fan base if the posts only get updated as often as your mom gets laid. So, because I don't want to see this thing die, I figured I'd bring in a couple more employees. What does a job at The 'Wave offer as compensation, you ask? Well, it doesn't pay $$$, and nobody popular is going to change their opinion of you, but I promise that you will get a grip of underground credibility and a t-shirt whenever I get around to printing them. Oh, I get good weed, and I'll totally get you high sometime, if you want. No experience necessary, just shoot me a message about why you would want to write for the blog and maybe a few of your favorite albums, or something. Nothing you write will be censored, or edited for content. Take a look around the older posts and ask yourself if your are ready to succeed where only Robert Downey Jr. has failed. Join us and transcend the banality of non-blogger existence.

Rejected applicant R. D. Jr. on the downward spiral.