It's 14:12. 9 minutes after I started writing this. Not that it matters how long it takes to drag out the slightly convoluted ramblings of a half-asleep mind from dreary eyes, eye lids involuntarily falling down like cheap blinds in a dingy bathroom. Monday follows a monotonous yet almost strict routine: check e-mails. Proceed to festival listings. Attempt to get going on that essay/ presentation that should have been done before the tame debauchery of another weekend. Check e-mails once more. Nothing. Unwillingly recall that homework that needs doing for the only commitment of the day, a class that starts at 4 and seemingly finishes before it's even begun.My parents always insisted on enjoying your youth with that whole 'you don't know what it's got til it's gone' mentality and although it was never uttered, alluding to that horrible tag-line that 'youth is wasted on the young'. Whilst it seems like some sort of Alex Garland paradise lolling about in the spring sun listening to Lily Allen, a secluded afternoon procrastinating unashamedly to Bon Iver is a whisker closer to the truth. Thank God for Bon Iver though; despite being one of the most depressing records since Elliott Smith's premature demise, singer-songwriters seem to have lost that air of romanticism that makes you fall in love with them every time they kick a new song out of their forlorn forest shacks in down-the-back-of-the-sofa America. But For Emma, Forever Ago never ceases to astound. It's one of those records that works both as an LP you'd put on a gramophone and let it run to the tears do the same or as a pick'n'mix affair. And that's about as unheard of as Fuck Buttons picking up a Grammy.
The Strokes- 12:51
Bon Iver- Wisconsin
Robert Smith + Honky-Tonk Piano x Screeching Cinematic Strings= The Glove- Mr.Alphabet Says (wonderfully awful)
