Garrincha, sweet Garrincha, I had no idea you were so much fun. Haven’t heard from Weird Forest from so long and here they come, a knock-knock-y knock-y at the door with Life is Wasted On the Living, and I’m overjoyed to be in on this rich little firecracker. Rarely does indie-rock bat its synths and programmables around with such playfulness, like a baby kitten tossing yarn about without regard to time or temperament. It’s almost a Mudboy fantasy smeared with actual mud, or a continuation of Spirit They’ve Gone, Spirit They’ve Vanished in a weird, warped way, two dudes workin’ it out while no one’s watching (but they will). Even when a track first draws a (?) you’ll come around if you give them the benefit of the doubt; OK, not ALWAYS, because “Sex and Stars” is bad drum-machine nonsense and MicroKorg tomfoolery. Setting that aside, the fireworks I mentioned before are real, and there’s a sequence in particular I want to draw attention to because it elevates to levels rarely recorded by humans. It starts with “Friends of Enemies” on Side A, which takes a noise tornado straight out of Oz and whirls a stunning cyclopean noise monster for only a few minutes before the plaintive guitars of “Brokedick Dog” (yep) take shit down a notch. I love this cut because it’s so casual and like, “Well shit we weren’t even going to jam but I sat down and played something I’d never play if I were in my right mind so we’d better get this down” on that ass. They’re almost going US Maple on this one folks, putting experimentalism over its back and burping it till it belches. YAAAAAAAK!@@! As long as this piece has gotten, that’s only Side A, and the material I had been pining to cover all along rests among the purple-pink laser kingdom of the flip. It’s a majestic place, shinier than heaven and twice as mythical. You’d step over your own mother to get there, yet you’d also sacrifice your own left arm to make sure she makes it, too. Lush, green synths as far as the eye can see. However, what that-… yep, a dark troll cloud is straight stalkin’ your ass. It’s crazy, yo, and we’re out of time. You’ll just have to go on without me; don’t tell anyone who sent you.
More about: Garrincha & The Stolen Elk
