Foxygen-Hang-CD-FLAC-2017-FAiNT

Section
MP3/FLAC
Group
FAiNT
Size
228,41 MB
Files
12
Date
2017-02-01

NFO

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                                 Foxygen - Hang
 ______________________________________________________________________________
<<============================================================================>>
||||||||                                                                ||||||||
|||||||                                                                  |||||||
||||||     -----------------=--=  RELEASEiNFO  =-=-------------------     ||||||
|||||                                                                      |||||
||||                                                                         |||
|||        Artist Name_____> Foxygen                                         |||
|||        Album Name______> Hang                                            |||
|||        Label___________> Jagjaguwar                                      |||
|||        Genre___________> Indie                                           |||
|||        URL_____________> http://jagjaguwar.com                           |||
|||        Release Date____> 2017-01-23                                      |||
|||        Street Date_____> 2017-01-20                                      |||
|||        Size____________> 236.47mb                                         ||
||         Playtime________> 32:21                                            ||
||         Encoder_________> FLAC 1.3.1                                       ||
||         Quality_________> 978 kbps / 44.1khz / 2 channels                  ||
||                                                                            ||
|                                                                              |
|          -----------------=--=   TRACKLiST   =-=-------------------          |
|                                                                              |
|                                                                              |
|          1  Follow The Leader                                  4:13          |
|          2  Avalon                                             3:46          |
|          3  Mrs. Adams                                         4:30          |
|          4  America                                            5:21          |
|          5  On Lankershim                                      2:58          |
|          6  Upon A Hill                                        1:37          |
|          7  Trauma                                             4:46          |
|          8  Rise Up                                            5:10          |
|                                                                              |
|                                                                              |
|          -----------------=--=   N O T E S   =-=-------------------          |
|                                                                              |
|                                                                              |
|          Get a load of these guys. These two young guys in the corner booth  |
|          of a small bar. Classy joint. Beautiful ugly woman sits at the      |
|          taps. Frail handsome man with a rag mops around her drink.          |
|          Collectin' the dust. There are other people in the bar is what I'm  |
|          saying but forget them we wanna focus on the men in the booth.      |
|          There's something about these two guys. Some sort of exotic         |
|          mystique. They got an air of show business about em. Like talented  |
|          actors. Like they've seen triumph and scandal and delirium. How     |
|          old are they? Could be 37 year olds playing 25 year olds. Could be  |
|          kids dressed as adults. All I know is these two young guys are      |
|          lookin' good and bored and ready for some kinda seismic activity.   |
|                                                                              |
|          The tall one name of 'France' gets up goes to the bathroom. Comes   |
|          back with a condom from the machine. Stuffs it in his wallet where  |
|          the other one used to be. He's muttering his debut novella to       |
|          Himself.                                                            |
|                                                                              |
|          The other one, all cheek bone structure and hair goes by 'Rado.'    |
|          He's tapping out a rhythm with chopsticks up against the table      |
|          which he's muted with a napkin. Erratic thuds. Rado's just now      |
|          written an album in his mind and he's ready for a milkshake.        |
|                                                                              |
|          They've each got different hair styles. Different builds.           |
|          Different ways. But they seem to move as a unit. Like a two legged  |
|          dog attached to some kind of cart mechanism that follows the        |
|          drifter around. Snarls when I try to pat it. They don't seem        |
|          dangerous but they could be the guys they were talking about on     |
|          the news. Is that why they turned the TV off when they came in?     |
|          Bar tender didn't bat an eyelid when the Rado one yanked the power  |
|          chord out.                                                          |
|                                                                              |
|          These guys are American that's for sure. West Coast Vampires.       |
|          They're in the entertainment business. Immigrant ancestors. Real    |
|          mix of blood types. Gamblers and magnates and Hustlers and POWs.    |
|          All distilling down to true lyrics and songs that matter in the     |
|          San Fernando valley and every other place too. Real operators.      |
|          Kinda guys that discover young talent and harvest it into           |
|          superstar outfits. Kinda guys that assemble the most talented       |
|          musicians they could find from LA to Long Island for things like    |
|          exotic show band arrangements and ambient beauty. Real guys. Guys   |
|          that make moves. From one place to another.                         |
|                                                                              |
|          Besides, Foxygen was never just one band.                           |
|                                                                              |
|          Foxygen is the Big Bang of two combusting minds. It's the splayed   |
|          Galaxy of polar geniuses Sam France and Jonathan Rado. It's a       |
|          handshake with a knife behind your back. A cosmic, Californian      |
|          death-game of highway chicken. A sleepless night in a five star     |
|          hotel. Truth or dare. Foxygen is the risk of pushing your best      |
|          friend off the ledge just to see if they can fly. You listen to     |
|          this album properly. You take in each moment. Each new melody that  |
|          threads forward from the fingertips of one of this generation's     |
|          finest piano men in Jonathan Rado. And you fall in line behind Sam  |
|          France's sprawling and reckless lyric. Witness his mastery. Feel    |
|          them struggle against the walls of their own creations. Follow      |
|          them there. To the perimeter. To the exit sign. And let your eyes   |
|          fog up with thoughts like 'For at least this moment I understand    |
|          how cold blooded and beautiful I am.' Notice that the two young     |
|          guys aren't there anymore. They're outside looking for another      |
|          joint to haunt. They're already out of sight.                       |
|                                                                              |
|          And now you're on a train. Facing the wrong way so the trees are    |
|          passing in front of you. And you're looking forward but everything  |
|          is getting further away. These nowhere towns somehow sound good.    |
|          Like the city is heavy, but out here we float a little bit.         |
|          America is too                                                      |
|          big of a boat to sink. Don't sink baby. Hang.                       |
|                                                                              |
|                                                                              |
|          -----------------=--=   GREETiNGS   =-=-------------------          |
|                                                                              |
|\                                                                            /|
|\\              AEROHOLiCS - ENTiTLED - FNT - FTD - PMS - r35                /|
|\\\                                                                        ///|
|\\\\\                                                                    /////|
|\\\\\\\                                                                ///////|
|\\\\\\\                                                                ///////|
|\\\\\\\                                                                ///////|
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<<================================== FAiNT ===================================>>


Files

PathSize
00-foxygen-hang-cd-flac-2017.m3u213 B
00-foxygen-hang-cd-flac-2017.nfo10,31 KB
00-foxygen-hang-cd-flac-2017.sfv293 B
00-foxygen-hang-cd-flac-proof-2017.jpg2,87 MB
01-foxygen-follow_the_leader.flac30,25 MB
02-foxygen-avalon.flac26,61 MB
03-foxygen-mrs._adams.flac32,27 MB
04-foxygen-america.flac35,19 MB
05-foxygen-on_lankershim.flac21,42 MB
06-foxygen-upon_a_hill.flac11,68 MB
07-foxygen-trauma.flac33,93 MB
08-foxygen-rise_up.flac34,18 MB