The following night, after the Oedipal whirlwind that is Mother’s Day had abated, I flicked on the set, and Groundhog Day was on again; same Hog-time, same Hog-channel.
I couldn’t figure out whether I was more confused or impressed by the thick irony in this example of truly post-modern TV programming.
Listening to new music is often like Groundhog Day, except not as funny and with fewer Bill Murray-esque wearisome, crumpled faces. A refresher: remember when The Strokes were magma-hot? Remember the resultant glut of be-fringed, leather-jacketed copycat bands, and how they managed to drive the last wafts of enjoyment out of that scene’s tail?
Thus the clamour for actually new and exciting music becomes all the greater. Hello, then, Gallops, who fulfil these criteria and more, more, more.
As far as repetition goes, this throbbing, punishing floor-pounder of a song shows that the band knows the value of a big, looping melody. The ethos is pushed to, beyond, and back to, its inevitable conclusion brilliantly.
More: in an attempt to destroy any self-designated kudos from yesterday’s post – here’s a comparison: Gallops sound a bit like Battles crossed with a glittery bedroom pop record released by Shifty Disco circa 2003. Miami Spider is – and I use this word advisedly – awesome.