We were going to write a rather typical and lengthy-worded blog post about, well, any old shit that we’ve been up to (we’re hungover today, if you care and/or are at all still surprised by such a revelation anymore). Heck, we might still do. But all of the wonderful tales of the neverending adventures endured by yours truly – fighting crime, kicking ass, generally leading a life of the utmost courage, yaddayaddayadda – must subside because we are upset. Yes, we know we’re the sensitive sort, but what we’re upset about concerns a matter so close to our heart that even committing it to writing cuts real deap into our big ol’ emo soul. But we’re 30 now. So here goes. Some fucker emailed us and addressed us as Angela. FUCKING ANGELA. Not the same sex; not even remotely the same spelling as our brilliant name. We’ve been in a rage-rampage burdgeoning on a shame spiral for at least an hour or so. We’ll get this fucker back. They’ll pay. They shouldn’t think they won’t pay because they fucking will. Calming us right down are the grungey tones of New Orleans people Pope. Pope’s real easy to spell. You’re not gonna fuck that one up. What you might lose your head in, however, is this wonderfully-effortless guitar-led indoe rock that this trio (we’re guessing) choose to purvey. This is what we’d classify easy as “Ben-music”; that is to say, music that that lives in more of the lo-fi genres like Paws, as opposed to the “pussy emo crappy metal shite” (that’s what he calls it anyway) that we like to subject our loving colleague to on the reg because we know he hates it. On that, some musical references that might be applicable here include Interpol, Willy Mason, Lemonheads, Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson annnnnnnnnnnnd The Pixies we guess. So there is a lot going on here. Make sure you check out the band’s Soundcloud in it’s entirety because there are some special musical treats in there. Have a fucking good weekend.
Pope – Beast
Here’s some more in case you’re struggling.
Pope – Red
Pope – Cashier