l u p m i x y > songs > new year's eve

reviews:

so, lupMixy has soured a bit on the quality of the feedback received at garageband.
(either that, or his fragile child's eggshell ego can't handle the truth, tom cruise style.)

with that in mind, new year's eve is open to your review right in this space. the song is playable right here by clicking play on the audio player above.

(you need to have a realPlayer of some ilk to play the song. if you don't see the playback controls at the top of the page, you most likely need to download it. you can do so here.)

be brutal, be truthful, be whatever you want to be. the completed reviews are right underneath so, you can look at them first, if you feel the need to conform.

fill in whatever information about yourself that you want. make up a funny name. knock yourself out.

completed reviews:

if you bother to slog through the tune, you might as well leave a review, eh?
lupMixy <mixolydian_99@yahoo.com>
cantibridnagia, MA - Thursday, June 17, 2004 at 12:55:54 (CDT)

What I imagine the bastard child of Ted Leo and Patty Lupone might sound like, conceived after a sweaty night of drinking Smirnoff Ice at a Strokes concert in suburban Illinois. Then the child matures, discovers Christian Science, Proust and non-filterd Camels (in that order) and starts experimenting with autoerotic asphyxiation, with the tape rolling. Bridge evokes images of a bathroom break while good friends gather around a table eating good food, maybe at Olive Garden, celebrating some mind-numbingly routine milestone (e.g., promotion, partnership, first anniversary of conversion to cannibalism) while the nuanced backstory plays out in furtive glances and concealed scratching, over and under the table, respectively. While snorting blow in the bathroom, the tiny, tinny speakers in the john bleat out the strains of the acoustic guitar before the 3rd verse, then a loud knock on the door snaps you back to reality. "What's going on in there?" the voice bellows. "Just rubbing one out," you shout as you stuff your coke spoon down your pants and wipe your nose with your shirt. You open the door and pat the impatient mook's forehead with your vaguely clammy hand as you pass. You continue walking, past your horrible friends, through the faux florentine doors and out into the freezing night just as the check arrives.
TheDJB <jbrino@ghlegal.com>
Baltimore, MD - Wednesday, January 14, 2004 at 23:24:11 (CST)

long and "sung" without the slightest passing regard for any semblance of pitch. drones on for nearly nine minutes due to an apparant inability to edit even the most self indulgent impulse. seems to have mistaken flailing at an open tuning with arrangement. similarly confused about the efficaciousness of stacking instrument after instrument on top of one another until no space remains.

lyrics are heavy handed and far from poetic in the least bit. playing is strictly bush league.
lupMixy <mixolydian_99@yahoo.com>
cambridge, ma - Tuesday, January 13, 2004 at 22:45:18 (CST)

majestic in scope and intimate throughout, this song nigh represents the forging of a new genre, the folk rock epic. once heard, the combination of acoustic guitar, hyper-economical storytelling, tasteful orchestration and sweeping dynamics seems obvious, as if the many melodic twists and turns were avenues long ere traversed.

the swelling choruses dance nimbly with the taut verses, establishing a deft rhythmic balance where every note throughout the expansive length serves to further engage and amaze.

listening to something like this makes me feel as if the human race might just be all right after all.
lupMixy <mixolydian_99@yahoo.com>
cambridge, MA - Tuesday, January 13, 2004 at 17:03:12 (CST)