[Disclaimer: I randomly picked Ms. Carey because I am not a fan of her work. I intended to work a joke out of this, but I checked her Wikipedia page and... well, it turns out she actually does have a new album coming out. On April Fool's Day.]
Nope! My butterflies-in-stomach-ness is brought to you by none other than The Mars Volta.
The Bedlam in Goliath came out yesterday, and I got my mitts on a copy of it just tonight. Rolling Stone loves it, and listen to what John Bush on allmusic.com says:
It can't come as a surprise that the Mars Volta's fourth album opens with a bang -- sonic terrorism is one of the only things listeners can count on from the band -- but it's genuinely novel that The Bedlam in Goliath never lets go of its momentum, not even after a full hour's worth of unrelenting war on silence, the wrapping paper for a concept album about the power of the occult.
So, you could say my still-shrink-wrapped disc has me all tingly in the nethers (and not just from the frostbite I probably got down-yonder walking around tonight in -9 and a stiff breeze).
* * * * * * *
I've always known my taste in music was a little peculiar, overall. But lately I've come to the realization that it's not only strange, but it's broad — I'm very specific in what I like, but that specificity runs across multiple genres (rock of various flavours, indie stuff, jazz, classical, and even a touch of electronica). I listen to My Bloody Valentine and Steely Dan, John Coltrane and Hall & Oates, Soft Machine and the Doobie Brothers. I lose my shit if I hear '70s Canadian cock-rockers Triumph on the radio (as Frequent Site-Contributor ECB can attest), but I'll also listen intently for the sound of the lawn sprinklers in Spoon's "My Mathematical Mind" (great song from a great album, Gimme Fiction).
I think I'm just crazy, is all.