I’ve lately taken to playing the Ultimate Homicidol Playlist at the gym. Part of it is that I’m lazy in ways that would offend polite society and often don’t feel like going to the trouble of downloading new music; a more germane part, though, is that I’ve lately taken to a new cardio regimen that leaves me in lots of long, lonely, otherwise quiet bouts of activity with naught by my thoughts, so I may as well put on some video, you know? And what better than that woefully outdated, in-terrible-need-of-updating collection of the most exemplary things in almost a decade of loudol?
It’s a trip down Memory Lane, ultimately, getting to reacquaint with music and videos that I, once upon a smitten time, held lovingly in my hands while forming a mental model for what loud idol should look and sound like. Gnarly guitars and slinky synths and way too much percussion and hooks big enough to catch a tuna? Feed me, Seymour!
And so, when this new one from ASTROMATE popped up this morning (thanks Andrew!), I was perfectly situated to enjoy it for its greatest strengths and bask in its perhaps-inadvertent celebration of that legacy:
The MV isn’t much of anything to write home about, but it exists, and that’s something. This track, though, I’m incredibly thankful for. In the span of about 45 seconds, I pulled from my headspace recalls to early PassCode, very early Party Rockets and the original Koutei Camera Girl. It’s loud and kind of rude in places and sounds like idol made by people with a grudge for people with weird quirks. And that’s comforting.
There doesn’t seem to be a why here other than “because,” and I’m completely okay with that. Keep it up, ASTROMATE, and don’t take your foot off the pedal til you get there.