Yesterday I bought a Kinder Surprise egg and from it came a witch on wheels with an articulated jaw that cackles as you push her along. I cannot imagine that a more fitting item could have sprung forth from such an egg and the five minutes I spent grappling with the plastic tub within just added to the pleasure of receiving the witch. Today for my postcard project (current total 55/400) I am going to draw ten witches.
On another matter altogether, I like to read Pitchfork every day because it's a very good place to find new music. But some of their reviews are an extraordinary exercise in saying absolutely nothing at all. Someone clearly typed about 400 words here but at the end I challenge anyone to be any the wiser as to what it is like.
My favourite phrases:
"dialed-up vocal presence"
"this practically demands a footnoted lyric sheet"
"you suspect he's play-acting as much as he is singing"
"...turns that churning spoken-word passage into the skeleton for a celebratory sliver of symphonic electro"
A score is given (8.4) but as anyone who ever bought a Deerhunter or Beach House record can attest, Pitchfork's scores are assigned using the same numerology pioneered by lovecalculator.com and may not be based on merit. On a good day I can read the synopses on the front page and guess the score to within .3 for each one.
Mind you, last week someone described my comics as creating a sense of aphasia, in that they recognised the words used but no longer understood what they meant. No one is innocent!