By Jake Paterson, First Year English
Versions of Modern Performance is an album by Horsegirl. It sounds like everything you've learned that rock music is meant to sound like. It's tight. It's expansive. It's loud. It's experimental. Every part of you leans closer into its energy until the surface is barely visible anymore. You feel glassy eyed. You feel powerful. You will do this. That is its promise. This is what NME in print told you that guitars could do. It will be in my ears for years.
Seven times out of ten we listen to our music at night, thus spawned the title of this program, the word, maraud, means to loot, in this case, we maraud for ears.
Versions of Modern Performance was released on Matador Records. The comparison to Pavement is lazy. The Gang of Four lyric allusion is perfectly executed. Words are rarely enough. We talk into the night as if it hears us right back. We listen at night to a drone. A sonic loop. We talk into notebooks so that we can hear ourselves back at a later date. We listen to Horsegirl to hear ourselves much the same.
If a man approaches a work of art with any desire to exercise authority over it and the artist, he approaches it in such a spirit that he cannot receive any artistic impression from it at all.
Versions of Modern Performance is thrity-three minutes long. Blink and you miss it. It gives shape to light. It is movement and sound and vision. It is cast together from three people. We are to make of it nothing at all. Only to stand and witness. This is not post-punk revival. This is not post-modernism. This is Horsegirl. Their album is called Versions of Modern Performance.