My old friends, I can remember when
You cut your hair, I never saw you again
Now the cities we live in could be distant stars
And I search for you in every passing car
I finally got around to listening to my Copy of The Suburbs, and
it’s just not grabbing me by the throat the way Neon Bible did. In
place of thundering polemics like
Intervention,
there is a tired, wistful nostalgia permeating all of the songs. Win
never belts here; his voice is breathy and almost lost in the mix.
This is an album to play as you drive through the streets of the town
you grew up in. I’m not sure if I can come to identify with these
songs; angst and anger are universal, but each man’s sadness for the
passing of his own childhood is deeply personal.