This song is downright catchy, but everything about it makes me all wut-wut-wut?
Eons ago, I used to go to the tanning salon every day. If I am ever diagnosed with a fatal illness, I’ll be back there every day until I go tits-up. Anyway, when you’re lying in a tanning bed, you listen to music the salon pipes in and most of it is pure corporate crap, indistinguishable from anything you hear a zillion times in the checkout line at Target. Which you’re currently boycotting because they support anti-gay political candidates. But you know what I mean, so: emotionally frilly and melodically ostentatious nonsense with no artistic core. It’s not music, it’s money. You know it when you hear it and I heard a lot of it while I sizzled contentedly in the tanning bed. I simply couldn’t believe a person would subject him- or herself to that without feeling like he or she had eaten a bag of white sugar. This brings us to Coheed and Cambria’s Blood Red Summer. I found this tucked into a gritty and energetic playlist on Altrok Radio, and I was puzzled to hear what sounded like a tanning salon/beach music-like product. You know what I’m talking about: that song that plays on the radio at the beach you wouldn’t tolerate for a second once you’ve kicked off your flipflops in September, but you’re so goddamn happy in the sunshine you think, Ahhhh, what the hell. Once you’ve let that song into your consciousness it will always mean goddamn beach sunshine happiness to you and now you’re stuck feeling wistful about a shitty song. That sucks. I guard against it by plugging my ears whenever I hear Kelly Carlson’s overproduced warblings, lest I be stuck with that mental image. So imagine my surprise when not only aren’t Coheed and Cambria bikini-clad spokesmodels, but they’re not women and they’re not smiling.
Now that is interesting.