Flu season III

by championtour

It’s still December of 2012

re: ground. Disorientation is a symptom of being too sure

Tragicomedies, by Rudi Zygadlo, is not unnerving. It’s rather slick, it’s got a presentable exterior that makes its truly complex idiosyncrasies seem perfectly palatable. Infact, it’s hard to tell if there’s anything wrong with it at all… it has a hint of Kelley Polar level melodrama (mechanized flint-sparks of methodical lovesickness), and even a bit of its sound (minus the disco beats), but not enough to firm up a solid case, not enough to be accused.

Regardless, Tragicomedies is another album that lives up to its title.

You’ve got it basically right

Subtext monsters, eating all of the words they don’t say
Well-fed critters multiplying to rhetoric
Marry lullabies to piquancy
The Engineering behind the Flying Cups

Tragicomedies are pleasant, but it’s also so many different things at once that it goes down like a euphoric pill with side-effect (the side-effects are euphoria)
Oh, never mind then. No thanks.
So we have Purple Rain, bad memories of musical jewelery boxes snapping shut on your fingers, heavy orchestration side-by-side minimalism, distorted wonky excursion next to bones full of fluid and doo-wop over Balearic waltzes over (polite) breakbeats
Doesn’t it all just make you a little queasy