(As I write this, I sit in a hotel room in the south of Tunisia. I am in a city called Douz, here to take pictures of a blogging workshop and desert festival. Further, I’m writing this in TextEdit, as my 3G wireless key will not connect to 3G, let alone 2G, let alone any goddamn G. Accordingly, the posting of this review is tape-delayed by a number of hours or days.)
The Vaccines first jangled into my room — a room much like this one — in Australia. Stiff, single bed, one small window. I was knee-deep in depression and alienation enough to make Camus blush. My best friend was a sugary Australian energy drink called Mother and my favorite activity was making excuses not to go out. What fun we had, The Vaccines and I.
This seems like a happy album at the outset. It sounds like sun, foreplay, and sleeping in. But don’t they all? What Did You Expect From the Vaccines? is an album about youth. Not only about youth, no. It is also, I think, about dread. And do I ever love albums about dread.
Dread is the product of aging coming into contact with cognizance of one’s aging. It’s that feeling you get when you realize you are never again going to have someone knock on your car window at 4am to drunkenly inquire about the location of their tent at an Ultimate tournament. Those Saturday morning lay-ins will visit less and less. Like the rest of adult society, you’ve joined the “I do things I don’t really like doing because they pay me" club, and no one wants to hear your bitching.
By the way, I am available as a life coach.
Sounds like: a wry, fatalist grin
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