“I’m To Blame”
Gonna be a loooooonnnnnnnng game of solitaire for us tonight kids. Well, not even that. We don’t have time for games. We don’t understand how certain people actually do. Let’s break it down for ya. We got back from Download Festival yesterday afternoon (which was great by the way, not least of all due to Verses being one of the best bands there and getting mad props ever so rightly from peeps like Rocksound and, well, us. We also threw down some of the freshest moves in the drunk-dancing game that you ever did see at the Raw Power tent thingy long after Slipknot had done their thing, and also we got to play Human Buckeroo on one of Sam Faulkner’s mates called Jonathan. That’s really all we remember, and, quite frankly, all you need know). For some reason, manager Mike thought it would be a great idea to go see Jimmy Eat World play at Koko the day that we got back. This was sort of a good idea, in that they were good. We were not good. We were tired. We had to lean on some stair railings for structural support. We got no grace. No mojo. We got fuck-all. However, the biggest blow to our person considering that we are still in the throws of one of the mightiest comedowns since, well, a few weeks back when we got back from Primavera is the reality that our beloved Ian Butterworth – friend, man, ginger – is actually fucking off to join MIT to cure cancer or something. He’s moved out. We are devastated, not least of all because we’ve grown particularly fond of Ian and his face, but also because we are genuinely concerned about who is going to fix stuff around the flat when it ultimately breaks; not more than a few hours following the realisation that this guy had left for pretty much good, the bloody shower breaks. Marvellous. The cumulative effect of all this resulted in such a large degree of apathy this afternoon that we had to get Andy Savours of Malpas and/or My Bloody Valentine-producer fame to answer the front door for us mid-meeting. So, we need a suitably think-about-life style, borderline-self-depricating-ish Track Of The Day to help us feel much more worse than we actually do, which is of course what you want when you’re feeling a bit sad. In come LA’s Boardwalk and the aptly-titled I’m To Blame. It plods along at just the right pace to provide the perfect soundtrack to your innermost feelings of despair and sentiments of becoming a bit lost. It then extends into an awareness of tomorrow being a brand new day, and maybe you should carpe the fuck out of that diem instead of whining about all the other, um, diems that have already happened. A bittersweet symphony, if you will. In all seriousness, however, this is one of the most promising challengers to the crown currently sat atop the head of Beach House (and maybe a bit of Port O’brien) that we’ve heard in quite sometime, not least of all aided by the sheer amount of online traction this track seems to have gained in lieu of the band releasing an album proper via Stones Throw Records. Yeah. Crank this shit and fade out already.
Boardwalk – I’m To Blame