Artist: Alcoholic Faith Mission

Album: Let this be the Last Night I Care

Reviewer: Paul Clarke

Drowned in Sound, 2010

Writing Disorders: Idea Fever, Jargon Palsy







Longest Sentence: 82 words

Matronly: “occasionally mixing too much together and not knowing when to curb their excesses”




Paul, you really should move to 12th century Iceland and be a chronicler. I don’t think your compulsion to write brain-breaking sentences is suited for the digital world. But hey, you be the judge. Take your opening sentence, for example:

“Some records have a sense that the immediate physical surroundings in which they were recorded have shaped the sound itself; that the ramshackle hut to which Bon Iver retreated for For Emma, Forever Ago was almost as responsible for that album’s air of rustic fragility as Justin Vernon’s confessional lyrics say, or that the hushed atmosphere of Cowboy Junkies’ The Trinity Session wouldn’t have felt quite so devotional if it hadn’t been recorded in The Church Of The Holy Trinity in Toronto.”

Paul, imagine for a minute that you’re someone who reads for fun, not to compete against Finland for the gold. Now I want you to look at that quoted bit above and answer the following question: does that look like a sentence or a paragraph? Draping window dressing on writing is all well and good, Paul, but you can’t see much if the window’s covered. Believe it or not, your criminally tedious opening sentence wasn’t even the best part. Read what comes next:

“This was literally true in the case of Alcoholic Faith Mission’s last album”

WHAT was literally true, Paul? The Bon Iver bit about the cabin, the stuff about the Toronto church, or the point of your sentence I forgot because it’s 60 words back up the path? I ain’t climbin’ back up that scree, Paul. I need the energy for the long trek ahead.

I can’t imagine how anyone besides me would have made it much further, but you don’t make things any easier down the road:

“And in some senses, the tiny bedroom in Copenhagen where they made 2006’s debut Misery Loves Company also left an indelible mark; if only because the fact Jensen and Solund recorded it entirely by candlelight seemed reflected in a sound which felt like squinting through the gloom at the shadows of other bands such as Smog, Tunng and Iron and Wine.”

First things first. “In some senses?” I can’t say that I’ve ever come across that construction, Paul. You know why? Because if you use the plural of “sense,” it sounds like you’re referring to smell, taste, touch –- that kind of stuff. So instead of hearing “in many respects” in my brain, I’m hearing you say this band made an indelible mark on someone’s tongue or nose by recording in candlelight. Second off, could you have maybe condensed “the fact Jensen and Solund recorded it entirely by candlelight” into a smaller noun? The poor verb “seemed” is tugging a fat load there, Paul. He’s sturdy, but he ain’t your workhorse, you animal.

Paul, I’m already tired of posting entire sentences written by you because it’s eating my word count like Reese’s Pieces. Let’s throw a jargon party instead. You text your friends while I put up a list of the stuffiest, silliest bits I could find in your glacial review. Then maybe you can explain why you can’t write about music like someone who enjoys it in the least.

“many of the Bukowskiesque themes”

“a copy of Arcade Fire’s Neon Bible rather than a neon crucifix”

“fuzz-frazzled guitars and buoyant whoops”

“lyrics remain resolutely grounded in the everyday”

“ongoing predilection for the odd tipple”

“expansion in personnel has been matched by an encompassing expansion in scope”

That last one’s my favorite, Paul. If you’ve never tried explaining power-points in front of a workforce on the verge of sleep, you might consider it. World always needs more cold descriptions of core competencies. Cheers, Paul.