Two things that never usually happen to me just kinda happened that sweltering July day. (Well, three if you count the fact that I actually found my way around without getting lost ALL AFTERNOON!) First off, I wander into Red Onion Records in Washington DC and they’re playing something I actually dig over the sound system instead of, like, Mongolian hardcore or what have you. The sounds are instantly cloying: overcast waves of shoegazey guitar, a rhythm section that sounds like it was teleported in from a Joy Division session circa ’79, and floating atop everything in a opiated haze are these androgynous, little-boy vocals. First song, sure, everyone gets one song right in their life. Second song, great, they still keep the momentum gonig. And when the third song erupts in this My Bloody Valentine-meets-Stone Roses wonderment, bringing back memories of listening to Stone Roses’ cassettes in awe in my cousin’s attic. Fuck, I need this. So the second thing that never happens is that I go over to the clerk and ask about the record, and instead of sneering and burying his nose back into his back issue of Forced Exposure, he smiles warmly and picks out the record for me! He even ended up stocking our zine. Goddamn, what a day!

That band was Wild Nothing.

Filed under: This Is Our Music