My lovely hairdresser thinks she’s psychic

Papas Fritas – I Believe in Fate

Sometime back at the turn of the century, music like this existed. Lounge-rock lamentation. Sad-faced velvet bubble bath. For the young men and women in small separate bedrooms performing essential rituals of solitude and exuding nothing but fine-grained angst, this was the music that powered their emotional turbines (in the absence of actual drama, there is invented drama, hazily imagined and Potemkinned into place with the help of songs like this). In instrumentation, this is close to the vibe of the new Destroyer album, which is what brought it back to my mind. This song is a gem.

[Buy Buildings and Grounds]

P.S. Two of my good friends, Yew Leong Lee and Tony Luebbert, edit Asymptote, which is a translation journal. Asymptote will be launching today, with pieces by Mary Gaitskill, Alain de Botton, and works by a whole host of other fantastic writers and translators. Go check it out.

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