In previous years, a twee-ish piece of curatorial, '60-reconstructing pop might have been all wrong for a post-Super Bowl morning. But since the ritual watching of the game is pretty much all we have left to unify us a nation and with pro football marketers savvy enough to bring the ladies into the jersey-wearing, wing-chomping fold, we find ourselves in a different world. Which is to say, at least some pallid indie rock boys and girls will enjoy the transition from gridiron heroics to these precious 3 minutes.Pitchfork actually got its head out its ass and hit the nail on that head with these guys. My view on nostalgia for other people's pasts—constructed entirely out of memorabilia consumed out of order and from second-hand sources—is still evolving, but I'm always happy to hear a well-executed tune. And these parts of the '60s are always welcome around here.
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