Gregory Uhlmann

I'm not in the mood for new music. Fuck new music. Fuck all these asshole bands writing 7,000 word bios that say nothing about what they actually sound like but take the long way to arrive at their own description of what they WANT to sound like. Fuck all these gofundme kickstarting assholes assuming anyone cares enough about complete strangers "getting into the studio" or pre-paying for a "vinyl reissue" of an EP that was released four years ago and no one ever bought it back then but because it's "on vinyl" all of a sudden it has value. Fuck your ideas, fuck your half assed follow through, fuck your photoshoots before having actual music people enjoy.

I'm sick of new music right now. I'm sick of everything.

And who the fuck is Gregory Uhlmann and why the fuck is he emailing me? OH FINE, THE EMAIL IS BRIEF, I'LL LISTEN BEFORE I GO POOP.

Seven minutes later I've listened twice all the way through and I'm about to start "It's Not Your Fault" over for the third spin. This is fucking gorgeous. I'll admit to wanting to throw my computer out the window before the chorus came in the first time, but shit, once that chorus comes in and all that strange (to modern music) instrumentation melds together with the vocals, I'm a puddle of OHTHANKGODTHISISN'TARAPPERUSINGAUTOTUNEAGAIN.

Gregory Uhlmann has created something that sounds like it's straight out of a Bon Iver meets Frank McGinnis romantic comedy, except instead of everyone having make up sex, everyone's on separate trains staring out the window as rain beats against the window, painting the countryside in a shroud of dim and dark and moist as fuck.

Go listen to this three times. I did, and maybe the new music I'm sifting through won't suck so much butt for the rest of the day... OR MAYBE EVERYONE BUT GREGORY UHLMANN SUCKS A SHITLOAD OF BUTT!