Dear Death From Above 1979,
I don’t usually go out on the weekends, especially if it’s raining, but this weekend I made an exception. Very few bands could lure me out two nights in a row, and I’ve already seen you an embarrassing number of times, but I just can’t stay away. You’re pretty much everything that I love about punk music. Your dynamics are loud and louder, you have songs about fucking and a track called “Pull Out.” Sebastien, I don’t know how you manage to bang the shit out of your drums, while singing and screaming like that, nor have I ever seen a drummer so comfortable leaving his drum set behind to stand on speakers and taunt the audience (“Come…baby…come…baby”). Jesse, on Sunday night at Mercury Lounge I couldn’t stop looking at your bass. I literally have no idea how that sound comes from that instrument. On Saturday night at Bowery I was trying to figure out how you do that descending riff in “Little Girl,” and on Sunday I got right up front in the smaller venue to watch it, but all that did was give me a boner.
Once upon a time I wrote a review of a show of yours and confessed that I wanted to see a tour of living rooms, toilets and rooftops with DFA79, the Coachwhips and Thee Snuff Project, but didn’t know if the world was ready for that much rock. Well, apparently the world can’t quite take it (R.I.P. Coachwhips and Snuff Project) but until some other band figures out how to make such an ungodly noise with a drum set, a Rickenbacker bass and a synth, you’ll have my undying loyalty. When we spoke last October, I was disappointed to hear that you weren’t going to play “Blood On Our Hands,” live because the two of you couldn’t reproduce the sound on You’re A Woman, I’m a Machine. Thanks for figuring out a version to play live. Besides having some of the best bass drop-out moments on the record, the line “you’re a woman we both know it’s true/ by the things that I have done to you” gets me every time. Nobody writes shit that fucking sexy these days. So thanks for having been on tour for months and months and playing shows that shake floors.
Until next time, I remain faithfully yours,