Maribou State

I was sent two soundcloud links over the course of about three months that introduced me to Maribou State. I remember that feeling, instantly, like I had finally heard what I'd needed without knowing I needed it.

This shit sounds like the kind of dance music you'd save for that specifically dope part of your drive home, where you've routinely seen the sunset or early morning fog making every fucking thing look super duper HD computer background image beautiful. It's that magical 'anytime is that one time'. It's the "I need to remember the exact second I felt this first", "holy shit all of my friends need to hear this as soon as possible"-type music.

I'm almost insulted by how much I've relied on this album.

The one part of Maribou State's Portraits where I was unsure if I was going to be able to withstand their particular sound was the subtle jazz toppings. On the track "Steal" I didn't want to like it, mainly because I kept imagining the people who were ten years older than me in 1995. I remember the fucking people who were ten years older than me in 1995, those people were nu-jazz-soul-shitty-weed fucking annoying when it came to their scat singing and their need to do vocal runs and the fucking SAX EVERYWHERE. I mean, JESUS BALLS TURN OFF THE UNBUTTONED SHIRTS AND NAG CHAMPA, jazz is an ASSHOLE and he was EVERYWHERE.

But I can't say there's that annoying-jazz feel anywhere on this shit. Seriously, Maribou State added a level of jazz that's neither blatant nor grating, but perfectly fucking Josh One cool. (You should google Josh One. Grey Skies bro. Damn.)

Portraits feels damp, dark as shit, but with these crispy fucking shiny ass beams of light shooting everywhere that do more to accentuate the shadows than blow anyone or anything's cover of night. The samples flung around on this shit are almost evil, but gorgeous in their simple intricacy.

I can picture a reel to reel video quietly, yet loudly, playing back a child's development from toddler to teen in momentary snapshots. Yet rather than watching the main character opening the gifts and swinging the baseball bats, your eyes are fixated on the people who are in the background of nearly every frame. There's always that one dude with the khaki jeans and vertically pastel striped button down shirt and the pervy wrestling coach hairstyle at every event, and he's licking his lips in almost every other shot.

AND THEN THE VIDEO ENDS AND HE'S STANDING BEHIND THE PROJECTOR SCREEN.

RUN!

But you don't run because dude's holding some Juicyfruit. Everyone loves Juicyfruit.

So you accept the piece of gum and kookily nod and stammer, and then you fall to the ground happily convulsing. Bro in the khaki jeans just poisoned you bro. You're fucked.

Ah well.

SEE? THERE IS ALL THIS EVIL HAPPENING EVERYWHERE, MY LIFE/RECTUM IS IN LITERAL DANGER AND ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS HOW THANKFUL I AM FOR A SLICE OF SHIT SHITTIN JUICYFRUITS BRO.

I have no idea of whether or not my internal monologue is translating into the written word when it comes to Maribou State, but holy fuck I love the fucking fuck out of this fucking album and I'm almost certain it'll be in my top three on the year it's so fucking perfect from start to finish. Even the female vocalist, Holly Walker, who I already insinuated was jazzscatty at first glance/listen, is absolutely fucking gorgeous in her delivery, and to say she complements Maribou State is backwards, I think Maribou State makes her sound fucking concurrently current and fucking old school.

The release of Portraits around the same time as Jamie xx is coincidentally fucking great for me because that album is the perfect segue into this album, and while I believe Portraits to be the stronger album, putting the two into one playlist and then shufflin' the sumbitch is a perfect evening on the porch with a citronella candle and a tequilaz.

I would buy this bros. Seriousballs.