I have no complaints about post-punk fetishism. If an artist justifies their attempts to replicate the dark, grumbling moodiness of bands like The Chameleons
In my first feature of Grimes, I made the point that the music of Claire Boucher resembled conceptual art. With gauzy layers of synth
Avey Tare’s debut full-length sounds like it was recorded in some submerged swamp, where the croaking of frogs and buzzing of flies is enough
