Sort of wanted this since it came out; I especially liked the song with the stuttery broken guitar loop. Now that it’s mine, I react differently to the inane lyrics. I’m taking the insult to my intelligence personally since, after all, I have turned out to be the audience for this record.

Aquarius Records’ review was so intriguing (and gushy) that even after finding the Xiu Xiu audio clips off-putting I still thought “Well, maybe.”

Then I turned it off 30 seconds into my first listen because I was at work and could tell it wasn’t a good idea to let it ride. Finally got to play the whole thing alone in my room that night… one of the best things about self-consciously experimental music is that it stands a chance of not using familiar emotions as its reference points. Xiu Xiu sound very, very emotional, but very staged; except for a few lapses into standard angst-signifying emo-pop vocals, though, knowing you’re being had isn’t the same as feeling manipulated. It’s very easy to remand yourself into the care of this free/untuned + new-wave thing.

For some reason I expected the album to form a coherent whole, and it doesn’t. It’s certainly varied enough to listen to all at once (if you like the basic aesthetic) but there’s no grand sweep to it.

Extensively and intricately not worth it.

I’m having trouble adapting to the compilation-based lifestyle that seems necessary with dance music. Not being able to assess how much I knew about the genre, I couldn’t guess from the track listing whether this was a get-all-the-hits-at-once thing, or a come-on to sell me lesser-known artists by brandishing the names of stars, or what. Still not sure, but it’s good. VERY poppy.

I’m starting to wonder how strong the tendency is to always prefer the first record you hear by a given musician. I’m having a good time listening to all this Joni but I occasionally wonder what the point is, for me. If the only function is to make me feel less shallow about listening to Blue a lot, I could have saved myself some money by swallowing my pride. Well, and my curiousity which is harder and sometimes better indulged than swallowed.

I bought several of the authorized CDRs from the band’s website and am dismayed by the half-assed job done with Vicissitudes, meant as a boon to completists. The songs aren’t even equally loud, with no liner notes on where the many alternate versions came from. (In fact, the liner notes only say that it’s a collection of “highlights”. Yeah, right.) And I can think of a few things that were omitted, off the top of my head, which is pretty much unforgivable when putting together a CD that has no appeal outside the inner circle of fandom.

The disc of outtakes from Sacred City sounds like primarily material from the soundtrack of the associated movie: ambient backgrounds with people saying very, very dull things about cities in profound voices. The only prize in the package was Demonstration, an acoustic version of Naked Apes And Pond Life that really should have been the one released officially.

I rarely entertain thoughts about record companies being fundamentally good for anything; I’m aware that’s shallow and don’t run too far with it, but it is nevertheless true. Maybe some people just have no native ability to identify with listeners, though.

I had to jump in somewhere in order to get my head clear — despite knowing and liking a lot of their early singles, I kept avoiding Depeche Mode purchases because I still hate “Personal Jesus” — but other than situating 80’s DM squarely in the arena of things I like, this record doesn’t do much. Only “Told You So” measures up to the singles.

This is good. It’s possible I’m trying to swallow too much at once.

Salient feature is that it doesn’t recreate the magic of Blue. (I know it came first; I got this and Court And Spark at the same time figuring that if I just got one, no matter how good or bad it was I wouldn’t be dissuaded from trying the other chronological direction.)

Liking something old always gives me a frisson, but then I get deflated when, in reaction to the same artist’s non-classic albums, I sound like the most casual of music fans: “I don’t know, I just don’t like it. I want to hear “Carey” again. There’s no song as good as that on this record. This kinda sounds like Tori Amos or something.”

Sean Tollefson has gone from bratty (in Crayon) to whiny to bitchy, which seemed like a degeneration of some kind as it was happening. Now he’s completed his transformation into a mean little prick, though, and it coincides with the band’s acquisition of some musical backbone. I still don’t want to shake the guy’s hand, but a grudging thumbs-up, sure.