The thing about having a blog and no editor is I can write about all the music I love. The other thing about having a blog and no editor is probably no one reads it. But that’s okay: it’s kind of humbling. The thing about no one reading my blog is that I can take my time finding albums to review that are insanely good (or insanely bad, depending on my current irritability).

Silversun Pickups is a band from California that sort of defies the current trends in indie rock: Their name doesn’t start with ‘the’; nor does it contain tongue-in-cheek, vintage references to the 80s. And their sound isn’t classified with the words ‘post’ or ‘dance’. If anything, they kind of sound like 1994 again.

Carnavas is their new album’s name. And it sounds a lot like 1994. But in a really good way — like how you felt when you heard Siamese Dream for the first time. I’m thinking the reason it sounds like 1994 is because it’s totally drenched in Big Muff style fuzz.

Brian Aubert’s vocals are sexy and smooth and understated (and it doesn’t hurt that he kind of looks like that studly dude that Phoebe dated on Friends way back when. Mike was his name I think). Anyway, Brian Aubert’s vocals kind of bring to mind the host of alternative bands that overloaded the radio during the post-Nirvana invasion of the 90s. Except without any of the bad parts. His singing drips with melody and sort of plays twister with the band’s ninetiesesque guitar driven power-pop, as if they’re constantly trying to out-melody eachother.

The album’s one-two-three punch (“Melatonin”, “Well Thought Out Twinkles” and “Checkered Floor”) could each have been staples of alternative radio ten years ago. Their sugary melodies, layers of droning guitars and sophisticated drumming are intoxicating in heroin-addict proportions. “Waste It On” is what MBV’s Loveless would sound like all at once in slow motion right before you died.

Aubert’s voice is saccharine (like if Billy Corgan and Kevin Shields had a choir of little mulatto babies singing their songs atop a mountain of Marshall stacks and Big Muffs. Or like Colin Meloy if he stopped playing Dungeons & Dragons and going to Medieval fairs and started skateboarding and buying his clothes at Zumiez).

And Carnavas never lets up. Each minute is a new experience, each song another made-up memory of the 90s. It’s a record to fall asleep to, a record to drive fast to, a record to fall in love to, a record to write about in a blog that no one reads to.

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Mark Linkous almost died once, almost lost his legs, almost couldn’t make any more music.

That would have sucked.

He didn’t though, and now he (Sparklehorse) has finally released a new album—the first in half a decade. Well, it’s not officially released, but I managed to acquire it through the murderous and gruesome black market.

Here’s the thing about Mark Linkous: he makes weird music that is altogether delicate, surreal, and rather depressing. Probably it’s because he does a lot of drugs and sometimes is depressed and has a chemical imbalance in his brain. Probably it’s because he’s a gifted musician. Whatever the reason, I don’t care.

Anyway, the new Sparklehorse album is titled Dreamt For Light Years In the Belly of a Mountain. It’s a weird title, and it’s the most depressing album he’s ever made. If you are sad, then this is what you should listen to. The thing about Mark Linkous is you can listen to his songs when you are sad and they will actually make you feel slightly less sad while still feeling sad. It’s a wonderful feeling.

“Knives of Summertime” caresses me

Sparklehorse’s Mark Linkous nearly died in 1996 after mixing various painkillers with prescription drugs and alcohol. lovingly, starts crying, tells me it’s going to kill itself, buys me roses, goes for a drive in the country with me. I tell it I love it. I tell it thank you. I tell it I really enjoy its weird solo of strange loops and blips and words. I tell it I love it again. “Mountains” convulses and shimmers like a kite in a storm somewhere. It gives me strange feelings — like is it going to rain, or, am I going to die. When I’m done listening to “See the Light” I think I actually might be dead. Peacefully dead.

The music is all so surreal it’s nearly impossible not to smile and float and swim in the clouds. Sparklehorse makes normal reality seem weird. Sparklehorse makes me want to live in a small cabin on a mountain by myself and eat apples all day long.

I am pretty happy with Mark Linkous right now — even if i’m still a little sad.

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