I can’t handle Sunbather; it’s too complex for me, and I’m not smart enough

by Ben

So after I wrote that other post, and particularly the two bits about Deafheaven’s Sunbather, I kept on reading reviews. It has been almost universally acclaimed, by critics (real, professional, paid ones) and listeners alike, and I anticipated a glorious riff-fest of orgiastic blackened death metal. In my first two listens, I experienced more or less the worst “music” ever produced. To me, it sounds like a few 15-year olds got together in a garage, equipped with shitty amps from their fathers’ ’70s bands, and bashed together their instruments for an hour. There isn’t any structure to these songs. It’s garbled, wobbly, and more inconsistent than a Mongolian clusterfuck. This is how I imagine the “creative” process went down for Sunbather:

Idiot #1: Man dude bro let’s make like music and shit like totes guitars
Idiot #2: Yeah bro man dude but let’s like add like bro METAL
Idiot #1: Good idea dude man bro I know some good lyrics too
Idiot #2: Really bro like what are they?
Idiot #1: FHDASFDASGJDSLGAHFLSDEPROETUIAOWEINDKLSVNSDKLFN
Idiot #2: WOW BRO DUDE MAN THAT’S REVOLUTIONARY

And then they snorted some heroin, set their shitty half-price plastic guitars to MAXIMUM OVERSHRED and recorded everything on a tape deck.

I guess I’m not smart enough for Sunbather. I’ve listened to it two more fucking times, and it still makes less sense than a fuckbrained gutterslut reading Article 53 of Chapter VIII of the UN Charter while taking it in the ass from Peter North. Is this supposed to be music? I mean actual, tangible, real music? With structure, rhythm, lyrics, and melodies? What the fuck am I missing? 

What could possibly be so complex that taintlicking fuckpuddles wearing ball-strangling torn jeans and Doc Martens and huge glasses while typing blogs on their iPhones at Starbucks can understand this and I can’t? Am I that much of a musical reverse-pleb that this sort of cerebral magnificence just soars over my simpleton ears and leaves me grasping for a quick suck of its noble feet? I at least expected something tolerable, and yet what I received was like a forced vasectomy followed by a nice long swim in a crocodile tank. Here are things actualreal people have said about Sunbather (green = listeners, red = critics):

sunbather

If you’ve read as many reviews of this shitpile as I have, you’ll begin to notice a lot of buzzwords: “post-rock,” “emotional,” “wall of noise,” “shoegaze,” “intense,” “accessible,” “Mogwai,” and “deep.” Well I’m pleased to report that none of these fucking words apply to this piss piñata. Calling this “post-rock” is like calling every other piece of real tunage “post-music.” You can’t stick “post-” in front of a genre and then apply that moniker to whatever the hell you want. That’s not how music works. But if you must, then Sunbather is “post-sensibility,” “post-good,” “post-quality,” “post-ears,” “post-reality,” and “post-listenable.”

My theory is that Deafheaven is so popular because it’s popular. In other words, some assfucking mouth breather wrote a love poem about Sunbather, and then, like fruit flies to a rotten banana, all the hipsters in the world jumped all over the fucking thing and began humping it with their trimmed pubes, scented balls, and minuscule peckers (because it’s too mainstream to have a regular-sized penis).

Pitchfork, those overstated and malignant personified skid marks, closed their “review” of this “album” by saying “talk to your friends about what it feels like to listen to a modern classic.” If this is considered a “classic” by any definition, and if it indicates a direction towards which music is headed, I’d rather fucking shoot myself in the eyeball with a spear gun than experience it. This isn’t innovation, this is exactly the opposite. This is a couple of talentless buttjockeys attempting to mimic a genre they’ve never heard while blowing each other. The only emotion conveyed by Sunbather is a deep depression given that I’ve now listened to the entire fucking thing five times in an effort to “get” it. But there’s nothing to get; there’s no hidden meaning or transitive narrative. There is only a fuckbad interpretation of a genre far too complex for assmashing hipsters to understand, and a failed attempt to combine two epically-dissimilar groups into one homogeneous amalgamation.

I honestly wish that any and all individuals who consider this music would lie down and die. This is immaculate bullshit. I hand-fart better tunes than Deafheaven could ever compose.

Verdict #2: Fucking kill yourself. 0.0/5.0

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