Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Fast forward a few years, and here I sit in Austin, TX, in the WZA'd's office chair deluxe, getting my first ear on Gridlink's Amber Gray after only 3 short years of blowing it off for no good reason. I have always wondered, when people were trumpeting the virtues of Gridlink from on high, why there would be so much ado about an album that is ONLY 12 MINUTES LONG (I don't think I'll ever get over this fact for as long as I live). Then, when I finally got to hear it, I magically understood. This 12 minute album is better than most other albums, regardless of length, who's playing on it, or if it comes with robotic arms that will stroke your sex organs just right every time. In other words, if it's an album, it's probably not as good as Amber Gray. In fact, other albums should just stop calling themselves albums right now, because Amber Gray pretty much won.
Hands down, too.
Now, I'm no big-city lawyer, but I can tell you for certain that Gridlink sounds like how all music would sound in some kind of utopia where things haven't gone horribly awry because of a pervert computer or dudes in trenchcoats who spend their time abducting people and cutting out parts of their brains. I guess what I'm referring to is actually Heaven; I've read that cherubim are supposed to be on fire all the time, so maybe it's because Gridlink is serenading the collective serephim of the Almighty Lord. And they're not just whistling Dixie on fire, either. No sir, this is burning fury that are setting their pretty little faces on fire.
Let me put it a couple of ways to really give you, the reader, a good idea of what it is that you might be missing. For the d00dz (read: everyone who will ever look at this site for any reason), Gridlink is like an unbelievably delicious but marvelously tiny morsel of food. Gridlink is the tiniest and most delicious cheeseburger you've ever eaten, and you wish that there was so much more, but somehow you know that having that much of something so good might ruin all other food for you. You have to just be thankful for that stimulus while it lasted and try to make it recur whenever possible. For the ladies (read: just because I like it), Gridlink is the most amazing and satisfying two-pump-jump you've ever let within 10,000 miles of your lady parts. Was it over in just a few short minutes? Yes, but it was by far the best few short minutes of your life, so make sure you get his real number and start sabotaging the condoms so that dude can never escape.
It's really hard to communicate how such a small morsel of music can stimulate the senses in such a way that a grown man (me) will be so grind-crazed at the end that he will be willing to commit heinous acts against his fellow man just to get a little more. Gridlink is like nature's Klondike bar. "Would you kill your parents for a new Gridlink album?" (Empty-eyed, I walk toward the master bedroom with an incongruously gigantic knife in my hand) "Yes, master, just don't let it stop for any reason....*drooling*....uuuuuuughhhhhh...*the moaning gets more sensual and way more creepy*.
And so forth.
If you're a stupid asshole sucker like me, you need to observe Gridlink. I feel like such a tool. So just follow your nose and experience your favorite 12 minutes ever, then thank me in the comments, or don't. I'm too busy jacking off to Gridlink to pay attention to your stupid comments anyway.