Swoon bitchez
To name an album “Swoon” is to announce a not unimpressive ambition. A psychosomatic one, of sorts — a desire to arrange beats and tones in such patterns as to cause physical symptoms in the listener: to make the blood rush to places where it shouldn’t rush, to force the body into retreat. To make ’em weak at the knees and light in the head.
To fulfill this ambition, a taste for the theatrical would seem to be in order: unexpected lyrical twists, aural ruses, dramatic derring-do. But Silversun Pickups’ second release exhibits none of those qualities. Rather than inspiring great...
