beta wins rabbits, smokes grass

with the very dark disturbing darger art (of children crying purple and vomiting up a boysenberry bile) of the animal collective feels before me now, i have returned to spin it again. and within its slippery slopes, again and again and…

it’s mostly to do with “GRASS” (the rightful single), the second track (much like “who could win a rabbit?” was from sung tongs) and also has its single-killing noise tucked into the core as chorus (of sorts). it was never quite disguised before (and was beaten to death on tongs's reviews, even under this byline), but the Beach Boys are made overt here.

yes, it’s in their sense of shading in the harmonies (which no longer obfuscate the boy avey tare as much as buoy him). yes, it’s even in the “wouldn’t it be nice” sorgham-y sentiment seeping through opener “did you see the words,” which trades letters between two distant lovers and shivers with giddy anticipation, wonders aloud about the old folks on the swing still holding hands. (those in the audience of the last tour will recall a dose of wtf? is that stevie? sweet syrup, an interpolation excised from "the purple bottle" quite late into the mastering process). but there is also the sense of beach in the boys. to where sound is waves, played with and made to ripple, roar, a sensation of waves sustaining, crashing, pulling you deeper with their hypnotizing tug of tides. and they know that, hone that.

gurgles of glistering rivulets, and a clanging cyclic tone (maybe kristin mum’s piano?) that is not unlike caribbean steel drums, and not unlike a cowboy song, all wagon-wheel loping-along when its not yelping incessantly. not to mention the kahuna toms, the “little pad” harmony hidden in the middle, the riptide rolls, the luminous gravity undulating. la mer et la luna.