which is, now that you mention it, a fairly antiquated way of going about things in the present age. it isn’t acclerated: it’s really slow, and wonderfully ponderous. lest there be any doubt about it, “the acclerated age” is not just a journalistic coinage looking to shorten paths into a story. at our present point in time, music itself generally requests quicker processing by its recipients. jam bands respond to this conservatively, by refusing to change (though if you don’t find Pro Tools in Phish’s mobile studio, I’ll eat my hat); singer-songwriters pay lip service to the opposition while embracing the vanguard’s more convenient innovations. but Coil never had anything to do with anybody’s scene besides their own, though, so they’ve got their own streetcorner to haunt, which they inhabit at a pace that is deliciously languid: slow to develop its moods, genuinely curious about what they’ll find if they’ll just listen hard enough to the sounds they’re making. |
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