Apparently I owe my thousands of readers an apology.
It appears I suck as a music reviewer.
No no, please stop protesting. While I appreciate your love and support, I have been brought to task by a group of individuals far more worthy and qualified than myself: people who leave comments on the internet.
I clearly misunderstood the genius of Hugh Laurie and displayed my ignorance of both his music and the fact that the British discovered American Blues (I’m not sure if they discovered the Delta Blues or Chicago Blues; perhaps the Brits discovered both by way of Mick Jagger’s mumbling). And since Dr. House’s most recent concert in Columbus, Ohio SOLD OUT COMPLETELY, I may never have the chance to see him live; I have no doubt his next tour will involve Bruce Springsteen as his opening act and tickets will run approximately $1,000 and two blowjobs apiece.
Likewise, devotees of the Deftones have enlightened me as to that band’s particular brilliance. After being told that I am both an idiot AND a moron (which are two distinct categories of music reviewer), I feel as though my work might be better suited on some sort of satire website, rather than a serious music publication such as The Inept Owl..
At any rate, consider me chastised; henceforth, I still endeavor to craft the sort of critical brilliance to which our esteemed music-oriented readers are accustomed. With hat in hand and head bowed, let me offer my humble review of the Avett Brothers’ most recent offering, “The Carpenter.”
This album gave me five orgasms as soon as I picked it up.
No, seriously, five. I counted. My hands were completely free, so my fingers were available for higher math functions.
The Avett Brothers were already the greatest thing since the Pedi-egg. The concept of some white guys sitting around, playing folk-y bluegrass-y music to an audience full of hipsters didn’t even exist before they began playing (which, by the way, was at age three, because they’re AWESOME). Their previous albums, which I won’t bother to list here because you own and love and stroke them all on a daily basis, like an adorable corgi puppy, pretty much redefined music, and eardrums, as we know them.
This album makes their previous collection look like shiny, beautiful rainbow-colored unicorn droppings. It is the shiny, beautiful rainbow-colored unicorn jizz that acts as the glue holding our musical dreams, and perhaps indeed our entire human race, together.
From the haunting, opening notes of the first track, “The Once and Future Carpenter,” I was mesmerized. Not figuratively. I mean that the ghost of Dr. Franz Mesmer actually appeared before me and put me into a musical trance by dancing in time with the music. Later, I went through bouts of uncontrollable sobbing, as the sheer brilliance of “Pretty Girl from Michigan” led me to realize how wrong I had been to unfairly characterize Michigan as the shitty home state of the Lions and Kid Rock. Later, I experienced paroxysms of joy as “Down with the Shine” allowed me to see that shine must, indeed, go down. Up with dullness! Up with dust! Up with matte finishes! And finally, I knew the raging emotions of battle and ultimate victory as my auditory canals were graced by “Paul Newman vs. the Demons.” I don’t want to give out any spoilers here, but let’s just say that salad dressing always ends up on top.
Song you should pay $1 for on iTunes, rather than downloading for free: All of them. In fact, you know what? Sell everything you own, and write out a check for the entire amount to the Avett Brothers. You don’t deserve the trappings of your own life, when they have worked so hard to bring you this amazing work. Who needs food and shelter when you can be wrapped in the warm and tickly embrace of their music?
Rating: One billion unicorn dicks. [Editor’s note: We are not permitted to provide the usual visual represenation of the album rating here. For one thing, a billion images would crash the website. For another, unicorn dicks are too beautiful to be gazed upon by the human eye. Sorry for any inconvenience this causes.]
*Note to editor: please cut and paste a couple track titles into the text of the review, where appropriate. I wrote this a week before the album came out; I’d rather cram a handful of horny wasps in my eyes than listen to the Avett Brothers’ new album.