A creaky old train slipped on the rails, spilled it's junked record collection, and various documentarian relics, and someone decided to provide folk guitar accompaniment.
A stretch of samplings and wrinklings, saturations and drips, The Books' Thought for Food is a loverly album dears.
Try to think of it as something ancient, meaning the near past, coupled with the presence of mind to not discount it, but to change it, to twist and frist it into a miscellany of true spirit. A brew for drinking!
Like on the song "All Our Base Belong to Them" starts "I was born on the day that music died" by a slow and low voice, there is no joy in this present that we have created, no tangible excitement, but we still make music.
We are used to the cliché of post-modernity, the neon Statue of Liberty clothed in pudding, wearing sunglasses.
Here, just because we are bringing seemingly disparate things together (sampling and guitar, quotes and a hip 1870's beat) but here, we believe in it, we accept it. We don't want to analyze it, or figure out the "symbolism" or the "gender issues," we just want to listen.
So listen, listen! Even if you have a heart condition.