To offer a little insight here, writing, especially about music, can be hard work at times. If a band’s good, they’re fucking good, the artists’ lyric and superlative sound will, and often does, speak for itself; you don’t really need us musos to spout weights of literary spiel about how “the epic change in chord induces an emotional expression reminiscent of…” etc. to get into a band, do you?
As a music fan, lover, collector and player you just want a brilliant tune, be it a sentimental lobe caresser or a feral, malevolent A bomb of a track, handed to you in it’s rawest form, as to provoke whatever subjective meaning is personal to you; music journalists may paint pictures with their words that can, in fact, daub all over your sketches.
So keeping this one short, snappy and simple (the best way with such articles) lets part with the phrase “put that in your pipe and smoke it!” that I hope, after listening to our Track of the Day by the incredible psyche-punk, bedlam bound Montreal based garage band PyPy, it’ll turn out to be a more than necessary description.