Frightened Rabbit (and Owl John) seem to have a limited following here; it was, surprisingly, the only thing BriCameron and I agreed on.
Scott Hutchison, and his music, mean the world to me. He went missing this morning, leaving some cryptic tweets that may lead to the conclusion he was going to do a Richey Manic.
This has upset me greatly; possibly more than it should to rational observers, but greatly nonetheless.
Since the first time I heard his music, I felt that there was someone writing really fucking good music, but with lyrics that showed he “got” it.
What was “it”? At a big picture level, mental health struggles. Relationship issues. Mental health and relationships. Just the struggle of being some days. He has an ability to express in a few lyrics stuff that I’ve struggled to explain to therapists and loved ones, and I like to think I’m articulate. I think I’ve written before about being reduced to tears hearing The Woodpile.
But it wasn’t just buckets of misery. It sounded, frankly, glorious. Layers of guitars and keyboards. Drums that could move effortlessly from subtle shading to banging the living fuck out of them. Slow, fast, » Continue Reading.