STILL SINGLE

A space for thoughts on music and culture, as written by Doug Mosurock and a select handful of individuals. This is intended as a supplement to our regular feature Still Single, published on Dusted Magazine. Updates will run here more frequently, and may feature writing on music not covered in the column. Compact discs are still not accepted for review -- we have more than enough vinyl and the occasional cassette to worry about.

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October 18, 2010

Young Governor – “Call Me When the Cat Dies” b/w “Fade Away” 7” (Criminal IQ)

This gentleman’s current day job (in the not-so-witty parlance of music journalism when profiling side projects) is that of Fucked Up’s third guitarist and back-up vocalist. I’m naturally adverse to the practice of backlash, as it showcases an individual’s ignorance towards the target of criticism, not to mention a tendency towards predictable behavior. I know way too many people that dislike musical entities based on some really fucking flimsy reasoning. An unwitting byproduct of Fucked Up’s larger-than-life reputation, one that precedes the band by an insurmountable distance (making thematic defense very hard for the creative minds behind the band), is that it nurtures the type of mouthy, do-nothing, talentless, low-rent human irritant that talks shit on bands that he or she hasn’t even heard. These types should be thrown in a great big ditch and dispatched via a variety of painful methods. I take great pains to know what I’m criticizing when it comes time to lay down some caustic slice ‘n’ dice, but I am certainly not here to do anything like that to Fucked Up, who I tardily came to realize are a special and important band for our times, or the outings of Young Governor, which have mostly ripped nicely. “Call Me When the Cat Dies” made me immediately think of the late Jay Reatard circa Blood Visions, when the pop and fury were in perfect balance. Not only that, but there’s a certain poignancy in basing a song’s thematic content on that one unfortunate event that unanimously results in contact between two bitter exes. Having just recently watched one of my own felines (the 15-year-old part-Ragdoll that I raised from a kitten) return from looking the eternal dirt nap right in the face, it took me a while before I could even look at the cover of this single, featuring young Mr. Cook holding what I believe is a full-blooded Ragdoll. There’s that intangible audio feel of someone who has conquered the art of home-recording, as well as the playing of all of the instruments and sounding like a band rather than a guitar player who has a barely-workable grasp of the other instruments. My only complaint is that the reverb-happy agenda and particular use of distortion (on everything) both serve to historically-stamp this 7” with a great big “2010”. B-side is solid but a little less perfect than the pet sentiment that precedes it. Can’t see there being a ton of these pressed up, so … (http://criminaliq.bigcartel.com)
(Andrew Earles)

1 year ago • 0 notes