WHERE YOU GO I GO TOO

The burning red sun peeks its fiery strands up from below the Miami horizon.

Traffic begins to bustle.

A man listens to marshmallow-sized headphones while roller skating down the boardwalk.

Bums. Bums bum.

A girl in a skimpy bikini and cut-off t-shirt looks over her shoulder. She winks.

You think, “is she winking at me? Or that Baywatch film crew behind me? Ah whatever, where’s the churro cart?”

Neon, everywhere.

A West Highland White Terrier rides a hover board through rising pavement steam whilst smoking a clove cigarette and quoting Raymond Carver.

Thus begins Lindstrom’s new album, “Where You Go I Go Too”.

(I figure…I reviewed the old album, might as well discern and divvy the new)

It’s a blistering smoke machine, this thing. Filled with Vangelis flourishes, unmoving Pink Floydian bass lines, Hans Zimmer/Steve Reich synth vibes, and enough Italo-disco pastabilities to choke Mario, Luigi and that loser Toad.

No one likes you, Toad.

With the out-of-nowhere critical success of his first album, Lindstrom returns with middle finger a-flipping toward all who challenge his mastery of the medium.

(Activate stern Norwegian accent)

“You wanna listen to this record? You think you can handle it? Well see if you can get through the first monster jam. Oh? What’s that you say? It’s a half hour long? 30 minutes? No. it couldn’t be.”

He continues…

“Yes. It is! Does that frighten you? Do I frighten you? Well maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in the 5 minute, 10 song album structure you’ve gotten so damn comfortable with. Tell your mom you’re ready to throw out your safety blanket then plug these 12 inches into your ear tubes. I think you just might enjoy the commitment.”

I love it.

…coming back with an album that challenges you to sit down for a half hour and actually listen to something. To do lists on PDAs, blackberrys, speaking engagements, trips to the mall, trips to the bank, crocheting, Myspace, all the things that take up our time on earth, and Hans Peter says, “no. If you like my music, sit down, or rather, stand the fuck up and jump around to it for a half hour or more. You might learn something about yourself.”

Balls out. Take it or leave it.

This record rips and makes me psyched to be aurally sound - My Bloody Valentine almost put an end to that at the All Tomorrow’s Party festival this past weekend.

Thrown repeated into the Wall. Of. Sound. 132 dB. Whoa.

pictures here: http://flickr.com/photos/andykadin/sets/72157607462298637/

Anyway…dig in friendly friends.

http://rapidshare.com/files/147879131/lindstrom_-_where_you_go_i_go_too.zip.html