Curse of Shadowgate – The Departure
Damon Albarn, upon hearing of grunge icon Kurt Cobain’s tragic self-inflicted end scene, remarked that had the Seattle native taken up football (soccer for all of you living in the country that will host the World Cup), he would’ve likely been fine.
They do warn us that heroes never actually die. And, for once, let’s take those warnings for what they are – predictions of a strange, unfamiliar future. Plus, Albarn may be an idiot, but he must also be a genius, judging by all the millions he’s accumulated and hidden in a bank in Reykjavik.
What would Cobain and the other grunge icons have sounded like had they actually found a hobby that inflicts less peril on your lungs, brain and liver than the ones they tended to favour? Curse of Shadowgate possesses enough imagination to place Cobain as the dungeon master of an 1800’s world of outlaws and cowboys.
And, frankly, Curse of Shadowgate’s “The Departure” is a cool listen, a country-tinged grunge track about a village that was once troubled by thieves who, in Magnificent Seven style, are saved by not seven, but one hero. It’s imaginative, fun, and whoever took the time to write this did so by swearing at unhealthier habits.
Tornādo Tornädo – Self Karen
The last time a U.S. artist got to hang up something in the Louvre, they did it themselves by taking a nap in the bathroom and sneaking off to an empty wall during nighttime hours. The name of the painter and his work have been lost to time, but I’m sure they’ve started a YouTube channel and a GoFundMe campaign.
But that’s by the by. Unless you’ve taken severe measures to avoid it, American popular culture has colored the way you hear and say a joke, the kind of sandwich you have for lunch and, perhaps most importantly, the kind of music you listen to.
That ain’t nothing. In fact, it’s a whole kind of language that most people are able to speak. It’s a bunch of symbols that, if you’re smart enough, as the members of Tornādo Tornädo are, you can just point to and expect folks from teenagers from Athens and ageing Guatemalan grandmothers to laugh when seeing.
There’s a jokehidden in “Self Karen,” but I won’t spoil it for you. I expect that you’ll get it quickly. In fact, Tornādo Tornädo’s greatest strength is making the kind of alternative-rock that feels like the musical accompaniment to some 1990s sitcom. It’s funny, bittersweet, and, because you speak the same language, roughly, you’ll know exactly what the deal is with those guitars going off like that.
