It’s a good thing
You’re a no one
Because there’s nothing I can do
Dakota Fine, The Caribbean, 2011
* Huge CONGRATULATIONS to my good friends The Caribbean, whose 2011 release "Discontinued Perfume," was named best indie-pop record of the year. Says Popmatters:
The Washington, DC trio The Caribbean doesn’t fit snugly into the genre of “indie pop”, in the sense that you imagine it as a genre with neatly drawn boundaries. They don’t fit into any genre, really, yet they’re working in the realm of pop songwriting, in the world where a band sets a mood, a singer takes words and sings them melodically, and the listener takes it all in while unconsciously tapping his foot and singing along. The Caribbean work in that realm, but they do it like undercover agents. They’re living it, quietly, outside the attention of most people, and also changing it up. Their music is seemingly nondescript—they’re not flashy enough, young enough, or hip enough to get significant press—but filled with corners that fascinate, confuse, touch, and stalk you. Their fifth album is especially puzzling and emotionally affecting. Like scientists, they’re quietly experimenting, but like journalists or novelists, they sing of ordinary people who, of course, aren’t really that ordinary, and their life crises, which resonate strongly with our own. It’s an album of people stuck between what they want to do and have to do, of people who find themselves at an existential crossroads though no one around them notices. Not that many people are noticing the Caribbean either, but their music has the power to sneak up on you and take you firmly by the hand.
Says me:
Makes a great holiday gift for you and your friends! Buy it now!
You’re a no one
Because there’s nothing I can do
Dakota Fine, The Caribbean, 2011
* Huge CONGRATULATIONS to my good friends The Caribbean, whose 2011 release "Discontinued Perfume," was named best indie-pop record of the year. Says Popmatters:
The Washington, DC trio The Caribbean doesn’t fit snugly into the genre of “indie pop”, in the sense that you imagine it as a genre with neatly drawn boundaries. They don’t fit into any genre, really, yet they’re working in the realm of pop songwriting, in the world where a band sets a mood, a singer takes words and sings them melodically, and the listener takes it all in while unconsciously tapping his foot and singing along. The Caribbean work in that realm, but they do it like undercover agents. They’re living it, quietly, outside the attention of most people, and also changing it up. Their music is seemingly nondescript—they’re not flashy enough, young enough, or hip enough to get significant press—but filled with corners that fascinate, confuse, touch, and stalk you. Their fifth album is especially puzzling and emotionally affecting. Like scientists, they’re quietly experimenting, but like journalists or novelists, they sing of ordinary people who, of course, aren’t really that ordinary, and their life crises, which resonate strongly with our own. It’s an album of people stuck between what they want to do and have to do, of people who find themselves at an existential crossroads though no one around them notices. Not that many people are noticing the Caribbean either, but their music has the power to sneak up on you and take you firmly by the hand.
Says me:
Makes a great holiday gift for you and your friends! Buy it now!
1 Comments:
Sounds like they'd be a good fit for the Colbert show.
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