Ghost in the machine

Ariel Pink's aesthetic has been well-characterized. My variation - hook-laden neon lite rock recorded in a laundry machine by a pack of feral orphans. In another dimension. The graffiti haunts effortlessly.

I saw him play last night and found myself fixated on how slight a figure he cuts. It started as he was preening for groupies in the will-call line. But on stage, it was full-on ridiculous. He's like a man in miniature, scrawny with long, thin, greasy hair and a budding beer gut. Seemingly smaller than the instruments on stage. Fashion-wise, he looked like he'd be more at home nervously pacing around an off-track betting joint.

The weirdest thing about the show was how normal it sounded. Backed up by a very rehearsed 4-piece rock outfit, he traversed all his spooky musical corridors. It sounded amazing and epic, but having such a pro-sounding band kinda undermined the original appeal - the disorienting confluence of bygone hookiness and nightmarish 4-track hiss oblivion. Whatever. I was happy to be rocked in this particular way. Here's how it sounds when committed to tape. And yes, I think we're talking actual tape.

Ariel Pink - Gray Sunset