Two More Years
Two More Years by Bloc Party on Wichita
Release date: 3rd October 2005
http://www.drownedinsound.com/articles/13274.html
Shake the tree too hard and it's not only the fruit that falls from above,
but the life-giving leaves and, ultimately, the very branches that comprise
the core scaffolding of the entire set up. One feels that, a year after the
breakthrough of Silent Alarm, the industry's more omnivorous scavengers have
sided up to the source of such post-punk excellence and fought furiously for
familiar success; lo, we've endured a slew of sound-alike acts looking to
cash in on the fashion for clean guitars and lyrical intelligence, whatever
their original honorable intentions.
'Two More Years' sees the cycle go full circle: this is the pioneers
reclaiming their birthright from the pretenders that've grown strong in
their absence. The song's opening seconds blindside the listener, sounding
more like Mansun than any contemporary punks, but the trademark Bloc Party
sound - crisply plucked guitars, urgent but unfussy drumming and Kele
Okereke's read-them-how-you-wish words - settles soon enough. The format's
barely changed since the band's debut, although it does feel a little warmer
and compositionally considered, but nevertheless sounds as fresh as the
seedlings from which the trees about us grow so tall.
The title's ominous: the carbon-copy chancers will run dry soon enough, and
Bloc Party's insistence that it'll only be "two more years, so hold on" may
yet prove correct. Like every mass dalliance with fashion, the acts that prize
substance and soul above haircuts and hollow r'n'r gestures will prevail; 'Two
More Years' is proof positive that Bloc Party are here to stay. Shame they saw
fit to end such a song with a poor fade out, though.
小小小小地提到了曼森....^^;;
--
All come crashing down, your desperate icon. You've got to gob on, your
desperate icon. You'll all come crashing in, your desperate icon You've got
to gob on, your desperate icon. Am I a God or am I Jesus? Am I a man or am
I a boy? Do I feel love or just possession? Do I feel holy or nothing at all?
You can't deny, That your shit just tastes as sweet as mine. And you can't
deny, That your shit just tastes as sweet as mine. Sweet Jesus.
--
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