ha! oh man. okay. first, ohxishxitsxdavid, i apologize for insulting you. i had the sense you were in the camp (usually the young'uns) who listen to elliott because he's soooo saaaaad and then to cut themselves to ribbons while listening to roman candle because elliott is the oooonly one who uuunderstaaands.
i was wrong. i apologize.
and i'm not an indie elitist. really. i'm not a sad little emo kid "who takes everything to heart." your facetiousness escaped me and i thought you were serious. i just went back and re-read your comment. your facetiousness still escapes me. perhaps you need to work on your internet facetiousness. or i need to work on my internet facetiousness spotting.
and i'm actually sort of flattered that someone called me an indie elitist. i went to oberlin and was never cool enough to hang with the black-clad pop-bottle-eyeglasses-wearing indie elitists who worked for the concert series and would sneer at you in their studded belts and converse all-stars as they stamped your hand for admission to shows. this is like total vicarious living via the internet. i am now an indie snob! cool!
i don't believe there are 'qualifications' to listen to his work. but i do think it takes a certain type of person to understand his work and not just chalk it up as sadness covered in depression sauce and served with a side of misery. i think you know what i mean-- how many reviews have you read that dismissed him as 'mister misery'? for example, pitchfork: "meekly mewed verses coated in thick, gloppy layers of heartbreak, lyrics hanging heavy with cold defeat, vocals seeped in doom."
right.
so, in closing: i read you wrong, i take it back, i shall summarily burn in hell for some short period of time for this. but please, don't call me a "so-called fan." cause that-- that i will take to heart.
ha! oh man. okay. first, ohxishxitsxdavid, i apologize for insulting you. i had the sense you were in the camp (usually the young'uns) who listen to elliott because he's soooo saaaaad and then to cut themselves to ribbons while listening to roman candle because elliott is the oooonly one who uuunderstaaands.
i was wrong. i apologize.
and i'm not an indie elitist. really. i'm not a sad little emo kid "who takes everything to heart." your facetiousness escaped me and i thought you were serious. i just went back and re-read your comment. your facetiousness still escapes me. perhaps you need to work on your internet facetiousness. or i need to work on my internet facetiousness spotting.
and i'm actually sort of flattered that someone called me an indie elitist. i went to oberlin and was never cool enough to hang with the black-clad pop-bottle-eyeglasses-wearing indie elitists who worked for the concert series and would sneer at you in their studded belts and converse all-stars as they stamped your hand for admission to shows. this is like total vicarious living via the internet. i am now an indie snob! cool!
i don't believe there are 'qualifications' to listen to his work. but i do think it takes a certain type of person to understand his work and not just chalk it up as sadness covered in depression sauce and served with a side of misery. i think you know what i mean-- how many reviews have you read that dismissed him as 'mister misery'? for example, pitchfork: "meekly mewed verses coated in thick, gloppy layers of heartbreak, lyrics hanging heavy with cold defeat, vocals seeped in doom."
right.
so, in closing: i read you wrong, i take it back, i shall summarily burn in hell for some short period of time for this. but please, don't call me a "so-called fan." cause that-- that i will take to heart.