USA, 2020, neo-psychedelia / dream pop
I don’t know if this is the intention of the album, but I feel like this whole hugtheworlduntilicry trip is a semi-satirical take on modern drug use with all its fake consciousness-expansion pursuit. In another way, this album reminds me of the first 20 minutes of A Requiem for a Dream. When you’re high, everything is beautiful, and, paradoxically, the only thing on your mind is death. Sonically, these tracks feel like cutting floor snippets of Bulletin and Yoshimi. Not a bad thing. Just very similar and yet not reaching the unassailable excellence of those two albums. This feels a companion piece to those, like an album with kid gloves on. I guess several parts of this album are auto-biographical. So Coyne came of age on psychedelic drugs? Color me shocked. Shocked, I say. Tempus fugit, memento mori, Wayne.
Museum Musica 