If you’re reading this then you already know: the Super Bowl was canceled due to the unlikely and monumental release late Saturday evening of My Bloody Valentine’s third album, mbv, hotly anticipated for upwards of two decades. The warm pink swooning sonic assault of otherworldly guitar proved too dangerous even for the NFL’s best to play in, and advertisers pulled their support for the event, knowing full well that everyone’s attention had been captured by this rock milestone. According to TMZ, Beyoncé could be heard blasting “Only Tomorrow” from her penthouse yesterday afternoon.
We told you recently to give up all hope of something like mbv ever finding its way to the generations of shoegaze diehards (as well as 95% of Japan) who have been dreaming about it lo these many years. We could not be happier to be so wrong, especially seeing as how this truly magnificent artistic achievement has, for the time being, completely overshadowed any otherwise popular contest of strength and agility—and perhaps even the notion of athletics itself. For what, in the jet-launch roar of album closer “Wonder 2,” could pretend to be as important?
The Super Bowl will be back next February. In the meantime, take a trip down into the poppy swirl of “New You” and feel the contentment of not having to eat eight pounds of chili and nachos in one sitting. Or, what the hell, do that anyway. It’s not every day that musicians expose the utter futility of doing anything except making the best, loudest and coolest music on the face of the planet. In fact, grab some beers, invite some friends over to party and listen to this together. Start a betting pool on who’ll go deaf first.
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