Generic Ratings: 1: Crap. 2: Ok. 3: Good. 4: Great
If you’re one of those strange folks who reads this blog regularly you’ll know I’m a fan of lists; if you’ve visited the interwebspere in the last 10 years you’ve probably noticed that a lot of people like lists. They’re great for click-bait articles, they’re great for writers who want to get a series of points across in bite-size chunks, and they’re of course useful for making sure our little opinions are thrown into the void along with everyone else’s. I have the feeling though that Mr Wire and myself are more dedicated to lists than most, and even the boxes part is something we have in common – that desire to keep and take lists of everything you have done, plan to do, or dream of doing, and to detail, store, and record all of this information. That melancholy feeling of nostalgia, sadness, and something feigning a smile when we open one of these boxes years down the line is one that most people will feel at some point, but a feeling which – for some – can be therapeutic or damning or addictive. Musically the song is a bruising rock song played at a high speed with some smart melodies and a typically strong Bradfield thrown in. Fantastic chorus all round.