Cymbals Eat Guitars

Do you know what day of the week it is? It's Tuesday. You've won a music post. Today I'm listening to Why There Are Mountains the debut effort from Cymbals Eat Guitars.


I picked this record for four reasons.
1. I have never heard of this band.
2. They were favorably reviewed on Pitchfork.
3. One track is titled, "Indiana."
4. I woke up wanting to read Moby Dick, and according to Ian Cohen, this might just satisfy my desire for something epic and dense. Otherwise, I will have to get my harpoon out.

I'm off to have my first listen. I'll tell you how it goes. Louis says I am overlooking my motherland by not listening to Fever Ray, but I'm not going to apologize. I'm only half Swedish, after all.

After a few listenings, I can relate the following: this record has that alternately dancey/creepy quality of the best Modest Mouse albums. There are enough catchy parts and enough slow parts, there's plenty of complicated instrumentation. There's enough guitar over orchestra to sound triumphant- I am that girl who wonders why everyone else is so over guitars. At nine songs, two over seven minutes long, it's an untidy little love letter to summer feelings. In conclusion, I can do my usual indie girl dance to it, and I plan on blasting it in my tiny parkside apartment with the windows open and the Atlanta breeze carrying it out over Elmwood Drive. I'll drop my desire to chase the white whale for now.

If you're going to listen to one song, I'd suggest "Wind Phoenix" with its horn reveille and xylophone calling you to frolic.