Modest Mouse

Austin, Tarang and now Sarah have each, in their own unique way, given me what they considered reasons to love Modest Mouse, the band. And goddamn if I don't repect each of their respective and, again, unique tastes in music. Being the hayseed hokey I am I gladly give anything a chance when someone I trust suggests it. But each attempt has fallen flat.

Allow me to paint a picture as best I can.

If you took everything any band has ever done to annoy or anger me and put it in song form, slathered vocals that barely register on our range of hearing, drowned it out with cymbal, mixed it poorly so that the lower range sounds are non existant, piped it through a low quality ham radio into my ears in such a way that I could never stop it you'd have Modest Mouse.

It's like when your alarm finds its way into your dream and you have no way to end the cacophony and you begin to slowly slip into a madness you don't think you'll be able to escape and you begin to seriously consider using the broadsword that magically appeared in your hand to slice of you're own head but you wait in hopes that your stomach will jump through your head to throttle your brain.

Am I the only one? I feel like the world is dancing to Modest Mouse and I'm outside the dance hall smoking with the Goths. This many people can't be wrong, I mean I've seen people swoon to Modest Mouse...SWOON! What aspect of normal synapses am I lacking that renders me unable to appreciate whatever joy the vast majority of my cronies find in that bassless, lackluster nebulus of white noise?

Whatever the case, I will continue to try to appreciate them on occasion. Who knows? I didn't like beer at first. Or Girls for that matter.