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The Books - Thought For Food

It is only appropriate to start out this review with my first experience with The Books since everyone will probably remember theirs as well. After a long, or not so long [its irrelevant], day my two friends and I decided it was time for a little cool down. We went into my friend’s room while she turned out all the lights and left only the TV muted on static to light the room. Then she turned on this album and we all lay there and listened. I had heard The Books before but this, for some reason, felt like the first time I was really hearing them in their avant-garde entirety. The semi-random sounds and snapshot vocal samples seared the air in a summation of life and music. ‘Twas grand, to say the least.

This album is really difficult to break down or sectionalize. As you listen to it, there are obvious changes of pace following the different songs, but somehow, the vein of the music always seems to remain in tact. From the first quasi-notes of “Enjoy Your Worries, You May Never Have Them Again” The Books seem to be reaching for a lifelike quality for their music that can really only be described by that same word: Life. This song has a straight beat that is surrounded by samples of people sort of talking through their problems. Mid-way through the song you hear an elderly lady discussing her problem with her heart conditions and some bad checks she was accused of writing. As this monologue goes on, you get drawn in until finally her voice seems to explode into nothingness and the song goes on. This type of forget-what-you-know attitude prevails with this band and particularly this album.

The record continues regardless with “All Our Base Are Belong To Them” where the listener is welcomed to the human race (ironically by an unfamiliar voice) and the band softly croons “I was born on the day that music died,” an vocal testament to the sheer originality of this record. At times it does make one question what is music.

On “Motherless Bastard” a small boy is heard yelling for his mommy or daddy only to be met by a male voice informing him he has neither in a less than comforting manner. The song then continues serenely on in a fashion that almost makes one forget about the tragedy that opens the track. Fear not, though, we are quickly reminded of this terribly awkward and disheartening situation with a reprise of the clip. The pure emotion tugging power of this track is almost unnerving considering that this is probably the most up-front, straightforward track on the record.

The rest of the record continues on in a similar fashion, by the end, anointing the listener with The Books’ amazing version of human experience.

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