Jay Gets Sweet on Number Three

If I’ve been tardy in the W.O.W., waiting in line for a Reatard single is a legitimate excuse these days. My internet’s been clogged, slowed to a crawl, as I tried three times to get my hands on what might just be the worst two songs of the bunch (unsuccessfully, I might add). Despite the expectations for the upcoming split with Deerhunter and the clusterfuck that was their pre-order procedure, Matador made good. Yippee, but I’m still eager to see how exactly they’ll remedy this logistical nightmare, and what shall become of further releases (those smaller batches). But back to perhaps my favorite of the already fabled seven-inchers so far. Number Three finds Mr. Reatard adhering himself permanently to the power pop particle board. “Always Wanting More” is that blitzkrieg bubblegum that becomes a little mantra in the skull for hours afterward, but the entire charade is fairly predictable at this point – in terms of production and process. I’m really digging the jangle he’s hooked on, but am finding his cold heart and general disdain for those around him (“you’re such useless bore”) a bit redundant. Though he is the best at writing bad lyrics – and these are the best bad lyrics in the set I can find.

Meanwhile, “You Mean Nothing to Me,” (there’s the thematic trend again, hate songs for softies) tries to melt that icy soul with the Southern Hemisphere. There’s no other point of reference here besides pretty much every great song from New Zealand. I just want to yell “Tally Ho, Tally Ho” over the squiggly day-glo organ or the rapidly strummed mandolin, instead of “I Care Nothing For You.” Tiny guitars? Renaissance of a modern punk? On one-sided, paint splattered, clear vinyl no less? This is my favorite packaging and song sequence so far. Or did I say that last time? Another high quality, intricately designed, artifact from the over-worked staff at Matador.

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