"LATXH," I haphazardly type out onto my super-lagged, auto-correct disabled phone.
"LATCH," I re-type.
A few minutes later my phone beeps. New message. From Jasmine.
"I LISTENED TO THAT ON MY WALK TO WORK NON-STOP LAST FALL."
Oh.... Shot. Down.
Much to my dismay, I abruptly register the irrefutable fact that I'm four months too late on this acclaimed sensation, ostensibly inattentive to the video's 15 million plus views on YouTube. I then proceed to play the crap out of it for the course of that very evening in January. And the next morning. And the day after. And sooner or later days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months....
* * *
"I'm only human, Harry," Lloyd Christmas once meekly declared.
A proclamation that rings true, primarily, in all aspects of my existence. Namely unearthed within the scant contents of my iPod (yes, iPod). Once considered a somewhat "reliable source," if you will, amongst my circle of friends in regards to what was hip and happenin' within in the auditory front (re: like Grades 11 and 12; the pinnacle of nu-rave and synthpop's Klaxons, New Young Pony Club, The Teenagers, and the deplorable volume of American Apparel duds that accompanied the movement #facepalm), I now rely on others for what's hip and happenin', and I'm OK with this.
'But D, don't you, like, work in fashion?' some will question. Let's put it this way: I'm not exactly seeking to cultivate my musical landscape whilst editing a paragraph on what governed the print of Marc Jacobs' men's Vuitton jammies during the finale of his Fall/Winter '13 womenswear show (See: Diana Vreeland, and Jake and Dinos Chapman), conducting hurried interviews on-set, or trying to FedEx a package back to the Yigal Azrouël office by end of day.
Of course, when not partaking in the above events, I do try to find the time to restore my iPod of its integrity. Below, five tracks I've been loving, because let's face it, this is ultimately a post on music and not Harry Dunn's butt crack (that, and everyone's been giving me rubbish for listening to One Direction lately – but their heartfelt ballads, people!)
Miami Horror – Real Slow
A real good song, despite the fact that it took Miami Horror basically three years to release new material. I also can't be the only one who thinks the music video is all too similar to Breakbot's One Out of Two. Nonetheless, Sarah Chernoff, who are you? Because you kind of make this song.
Zero 7 – Don't Call It Love (feat. Tom Leonard)
Zero 7's "Somersault" is kind of like The Cranberries' "Dreams" of the early to mid 2000s. Of course, I say this in terms of being featured in practically every rom com/young adult sitcom. And then I don't know what happened, because I surely didn't keep up with them after that. Sia returned on some Frosh Week worthy jams not too long ago, and that was about it for a bit. But then, this came out during the summer – mind blown. Funny I mentioned "Dreams," as the bass line and harmonies are most reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac's song of the same title. Just listen.
King Krule – Foreign 2
My track of choice off of King Krule's debut album, 6 Feet Beneath the Moon. Yes, not "A Lizard State" – though an incredibly close second, and you should listen to that as well. I've also been dealing with an irrepressible urge to mention his band's fashion sense to every person I meet. Notably, his guitarist's enviable Trainspotting-esque Adidas sweatshirt, which looked like it was dug out from '95.
Homeshake – Moon Woman
I've spoken and written about my incessant fondness for Mac DeMarco, professed in manners like this, due to occurrences like this. Inherently, I had to mention him somewhere in this post. I can't precisely recall how I came across Homeshake – fronted by DeMarco's live guitarist, Peter Sagar (DeMarco, intrinsically, Homeshake's live drummer) – but I was hooked upon hearing the first track on The Homeshake Tape.
Am I the only one that thinks of Ezra Miller when I look at Matthew Healy? Also, I know everyone loooooooooves The 1975, blah blah, and I just so happen to be one of those people. Lastly, I adore this. Plain and simple. I love this more than I love Goulue in Nars' Guy Bourdin One Night Stand Cheek Palette. More than I love the sole vampy red lip pencil in Clé de Peau's Enchanted Winter Garden Eye & Lip Pencil Bouquet. More than I love Chanel's Crushed Cherry lipgloss over top the Clé de Peau pencil. And that's saying a whole freaking lot. It's a different take on that licentious lifestyle theme that's been all the rage in music nowadays. So in short, it makes me want to pretend I'm Lauren Conrad in The Hills, cruising in her black BMW, with not a care in the world.
FYI, I'm still listening to Latch.