As I usually do, I stayed mad about this longer than was practical; the math-rock trend ran its unlistenable course, driving a fair number of earnest indie-pop bands off the road in the process, but it’s a safe bet that anybody who really had something important to say would have found some way to keep their head above water. By 1999 I had toned down my cantankerousness enough to listen to an instrumental record now and then, and I found myself drawn to one or two of them—things like Nigel Bunn’s amazing Index, which isn’t entirely instrumental but might as well be, given that its few lyrics are abstract in the extreme. When I’d sit down with a record I might have dismissed a few years before, I might guiltily enjoy it, but one nagging question remained.

 
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