If I was as promiscuous and passionately fickle in my life as I am with my music, I would probably be dead from some mutant disease no one’s heard of (let’s call it ‘auralius whoritus’ for the sake of this post, and also to sate my need to name ALL OF THE THINGS). This week, I’ve gone from blues and jazz to run-of-the-mill Indie to Rostropovich’s take on Bach’s cello suites to Bob Dylan, through my collection of mash ups about six times, through my power metal collection (I’m still partially deaf, by the way), and now - now, after three days of experiencing a musical supernova in my head - I found something that helps me focus enough to write a coherent, original sentence that doesn’t make me want to lobotomize myself out of embarrassment.
The xx is, for no particular reason, the savior of my sanity this week. The xx is an indie pop band hailing from London that, in my opinion, has a hint of post-rock thrown in to their pop. Romy Croft’s vocals are enough to have me listening in a music thrall for days on end, and their song “Islands” makes my head buzz. Could be the contented hum it keeps eliciting…
Either way, have a listen. If you like it, check out the rest of their album, and keep a look out for their next release, coming out at some point in the very near future.
