Apropos of nothing, listening to Stars’s “Ageless Beauty” tonight got me wondering what on earth was going on around Toronto and Montreal in the early Naughties. What were they all drinking? One of the finest albums of the decade – hell, the finest, God damn my heathen soul if I am wrong – and this, this work of absolute fucking majesty.
One day I’ll get round to blathering on about this song properly. Properly as in, 500 words on why I love it so much. But right now I am a busy man, a man of limited time and even more limited willingness to pour out my emotions on an unsuspecting and uncaring public. So screw that; here’s a great song, listen to it, love it, play it to your loved ones and if they don’t like it, write them out of your will. Play it to a prospective lover, and if he, she, or it, isn’t keen, well you should just dump their sorry ass and tell them they ain’t getting none of your loving, no sirree.
Play it loud at 3am when you come in all drunk. Play it on a sunny morning to drag yourself out of bed. Play it when you’re cooking supper. Play it going to work. Play it at work. Play it coming home from work. Most of all, just play it.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you don’t like this, you don’t like music.
No, I haven’t been drinking.
Oh, and I once briefly met Amy Millan after a BSS show in London, and I am ashamed to admit that I didn’t stand there blubbing incoherently about this song’s utter fabulousness. Damn this hipster cool thing.
I hadn’t been drinking then, either. Maybe that’s the problem?