"I did not join a rock and roll band to play rock and roll!" - Blixa Bargeld, on quitting The Bad Seeds "My name is Blixa Bargeld. And I'm here for my COMPUTER!" - Also Blixa Bargeld, when picking up said computer from a computer store in Berlin where Xiu Xiu now resides There's a dance, and on occasion a place to go dancing, where we while away the inevitable in the distinct hopes that we can better embrace what's left of clocks that only run one way. You see, time is the issue and the issue is all about doing a dance that measures out life, and chance, and smooths the groove into something that can comfortably be swallowed. Like 13" Frank Beltrame Italian Stiletto with Bison Horn Grips? Precisely like 13" Frank Beltrame Italian Stiletto with Bison Horn Grips. Which, on the face of it is the newest record from Xiu Xiu, but only on the face of it. Underneath that face, the sinews and struggles of a need that seeks to name itself over every record, and every song on every record, ever written by Xiu Xiu of course, but also anyone who ever sought to make a record that's worth a good goddamned. And this record is precisely that. That is: a good goddamned. Nine songs of it, in fact. Nine songs to seal the deal for those who will still listen to all nine songs, in order, because an album is a message that can't be read piecemeal. Mixed by John Congleton with a band-directed dictum that he should feel free to both "go crazy" and if there was ever any doubt as to what that meant please, by all means "choose iconoclasm." Which, if your ears are not liars, he has very specifically done. Even if it was not that heavy of a lift to do so since Xiu Xiu has made doing so their raison d'etre for the better part of forever. Formally formalized here under Xiu Xiu's sense that "the destruction of an original aesthetic notion as a motivation was new for us." Were it also a marching order for anyone committing to actualizing a musical experience of some significance, it seems we'd all be a lot better off. Or at least feeling a lot better off. Which in the end is the only measurement that matters in the face of lives of weighty import. Or even lightweight frivolity.
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