To my parents’ horror, I discovered Eminem at age twelve when my uncle gave me a copy of Encore for my birthday. I was enchanted; I loved the tenderness of ‘Mockingbird’ and the humor of ‘Puke,’ and the unbridled rage and violence that riddled the album were more visceral and real than any emotions I had ever heard in music.
The moment I first lent my ears to a band on stage, I fell deeply in love. Live music has always been my route to something more, supplying me with a sense of rapture a sermon or a nature walk could never quite compare to.
“House of Sugar takes us to these places, into the real labyrinths of drug addiction, the landscapes and dreamscapes where the whole thing actually goes down.”
This is not the first time I’ve written about Arctic Monkeys. There’s a good chance that this will not be the last time I write about Arctic Monkeys. And there’s good reason for that.
Listen to two or three of the songs off of the album. Pick them from different sections, so it seems like you listened to the whole thing. Also, don’t call them songs. Call them “tracks” or (even better) “cuts” instead.
I have a confession to make: I’m not a hipster, especially when it comes to music. If anything, I’m a reverse hipster; I only hear about things that are popular way, way after they actually are. That’s why I have a Backstreet Boys poster in my room.
