Jason | girlpants

pushed over the brink

I stirred. I was not cer­tain what had awoken me. Even with aware­ness returning to me, I could feel some­thing sap­ping my energy and my strength. Sucking the very life out of me. With a cry of rage, I forced myself to my feet, shaking off the last of the feeling of lethargy.

I took in my sur­round­ings in a split second. I was in the Girl­pants office; in fact, at my desk, though I did not remember arriving there. I was sur­rounded by dark, face­less, half-transparent men, who were stum­bling back­wards, taken by sur­prise by my sudden activity. My col­leagues were each slumped over their desks, sur­rounded by more of the bizarre shadow men. Their incor­po­real hands were plunged into the skulls of my new friends, feeding off of their mental energy. I was imme­di­ately filled with an inde­scrib­able rage. I had never asked to be a blogger, but I was here now. And no shad­owmen were going to take that away from me.

I drew my katana.

The rest was a blur. I did not mark the number of min­utes that passed as I bat­tled, nor the number of strokes of my mighty blade. Aware­ness of my sur­round­ings returned to me grad­u­ally as I crouched, panting, the last smokey rem­nants of shadow just now fading away. My col­leagues were coming to all around me, their words slur­ring as they asked me what had hap­pened, why I had not brought them their morning coffee and cheese dan­ishes. I sheathed my sword, shook Joel’s weak­ened grasp from my sleeve, and sat down in front of my computer.

I had to find some­thing. I had to hear some­thing as pow­erful and relent­less as the rage that, even now that the danger had gone, still filled my spleen to the bursting point.



stormtroopers? in my rock'n'roll?


The Pack a.d. — “Deer”

Per­haps the demons might have seen my awful metaphor about how much I enjoy drum kicks and crashes and envi­sioned some place in Dante’s hell where I would be forced to listen to a song that con­sists of vir­tu­ally nothing else. If so, this would be that song. How­ever, it would not work, because this song has been my favorite from this album since the first time I played the whole thing through. That the lyrics would appeal quite readily to anyone in high school who likes to con­sider them­selves “weird” is only another part of its charm.


The Pack a.d. — “Crazy”

This track was released as a single for the album and it’s a little more rep­re­sen­ta­tive of the band, which I would describe as a blue­sish band trying to sound more punkish, though I really hate trying to slot bands into spe­cific genres like that. It’s a fun little song with a catchy chorus that comes to a sat­is­fy­ingly noisy con­clu­sion which, as our more loyal readers may be aware, is about all I ask from any song.



they kill computersWe Kill Com­puters is The Pack a.d.‘s latest album, released last month and now avail­able through Mint Records. The com­bi­na­tion of bluesy vocals and noisy gui­tars and drums grew on me very quickly, and the album overall has a strong sense of, dare I say it, simple rock’n’roll fun. In par­tic­ular, “Big Anvil” has a classic rock scream near the end that I love lis­tening to. If you feel a strong dose of noise and energy is just what you need to defeat your own face­less soul-sucking demons, I heartily rec­om­mend this album!

seein’ nothin’ but blue and gray

Nos­talgia for a place I’ve never been. Regret over the end of a rela­tion­ship that I was never in. Ever had a film, book, or song give you that feeling? It’s a rare thing, dis­con­certing in a way that’s dif­fi­cult to define, yet a feeling I’ll always seek again. It’s hard to explain, but let me try, using a pair of examples.

over the ocean


Best Coast — “Over the Ocean”

I was flying away from a place where I could have hap­pily spent the rest of my life. I remember looking out the window, thinking I can’t believe I’m leaving. Thinking about the places and people I was leaving behind. The man next to me snored in his seat, a con­stant buzz in my ear. The plane lurched in the air occa­sion­ally, in an almost lazy fashion, as if it wasn’t any more eager to reach its des­ti­na­tion than I was. The ocean was spread out far below, fea­ture­less in all direc­tions as far as I could see. I think I’ve never felt so alone. What awaited me? Why did I leave? Could I ever be that happy any­where else? I remember looking out the window, seeing nothing but blue and gray.


Best Coast — “Sun Was High (So Was I)”

It’s like those dreams I have some­times, where I finally find the one person who’s per­fect for me, the one I can under­stand com­pletely, the one who under­stands me. Of course, it never lasts, because I inevitably wake up, grasping for the rapidly fading images and mem­o­ries. But today I real­ized I’m in one of these dreams right now, and it doesn’t have to end. It was a rev­e­la­tion; I’m not sure what else I could call it. I laid back, watching the clouds go by, my mind just fuzzy noth­ing­ness, without focus or def­i­n­i­tion. But one thought stayed in my mind, one thing cap­tured my atten­tion, like a single object glinting in the sun­light as it floated on an end­less ocean. I thought of you.



here is the one responsibleBest Coast is one of those bands where I really like a few of their songs but feel pretty much ambiva­lent about the rest. Even so, I find that lis­tening to their EPs and sin­gles one after another makes for per­fect music for all the long drives I’ve had lately. They’ve got an album out later this year, which I’m really hoping will take the same direc­tion as the above two songs. If so, I’ll be writing about this band again when it’s released. In the mean­time, they’ve got a new video out for their single “When I’m With You” that I can show you.


So, folks, with Vivian Girls, Dum Dum Girls, and now Best Coast, I’m pretty sure I’ve com­pleted some kind of posting tri­fecta. I really like what these bands are doing, their sort of fuzzy, less offen­sive ver­sion of the noise I usu­ally enjoy in music. If you like any of these three bands, then def­i­nitely give the other two a try.

Best Coast are signed to Group Tight­ener, but their releases seem to be sold out there and on Amazon, so I will instead refer you to iTunes because, hap­pily, they never seem to run out of 1s and 0s. Enjoy!

oh god how did i get here

Last Tuesday, Dum Dum Girls released their first full-length, I Will Be, and I’ve been playing it ever since. They’ve got a touch of a lo-fi sound with fuzzy vocals and gui­tars, along with lazy-sounding surf-style beats and lyrics about love and longing that must be inten­tion­ally naïve — a com­bi­na­tion that seems to be enjoying a new flow­ering in the past couple of years as some kind of sub-sub-genre, which already has lesser blogs grum­bling the way they do when­ever two or more bands are doing the same thing.

this band actually started as just one girl (not this one)

But enough talk. Here, take a moment to listen to the mer­ci­lessly catchy single that pre­ceded (and is included on) the album.

Dum Dum Girls — “Jail La La”

I both love and hate songs like this; I’m trying to listen to the whole album but I keep coming back to this one track. It’s not fair to take advan­tage of my com­plete lack of musical willpower like this, not when there’s a groovy, unlikely cover of Sonny & Cher’s “Baby Don’t Go” waiting for me at the end of the album!

But that’s not to say the rest of the album is weak. Once past that track, I found “Rest of Our Lives,” a low-tempo little tune that exudes loss and nos­talgia. This is imme­di­ately fol­lowed by its total oppo­site, “Yours Alone,” a song of cliché puppy love with a chorus that erupts with fuzzy naïve bliss. And there’s the title track, “I Will Be,” which is impres­sive for its suc­cess in sounding exactly like some lo-fi 1960s girl group anthem.

I Will Be was released on March 30th, so go over to Sub Pop Records and pick it up now if this sounds good to you.

you won’t remember a thing

Let me con­fess some­thing. I tend to avoid pop­ular bands. All else being equal, I’m pretty sure I would like a band less just because it is pop­ular. I realize that sounds ter­rible, and no, it’s not to pre­serve my “hip­ster cred” or any­thing like that. Basi­cally, I want to like bands that I can see in small venues. Bands that are made up of real, acces­sible people who per­haps even have day jobs. Bands that, just for example, you can watch from two feet away in a crowded Boston bar.

light shop aweAs you might remember from my last post, I under­took a journey to the Bay State (yeah, I looked that up just now) to see the Vivian Girls. In a bit of unknowing fore­shad­owing, I men­tioned in passing that a lot of the locals had no idea who the Vivian Girls were and had come to see another band entirely: You Can Be a Wesley. This was the first thing that intrigued me about this band. The second was that their songs were damned catchy. Upon returning home, I was happy to find their album on iTunes, and after a listen I decided this was a band I should write about.

But what to write? There was little infor­ma­tion to be found. And then I remem­bered why I go to see bands like this in the first place. One email later and the vocalist, Saara (who should obv. get together with Niina and start some kind of club) had agreed to answer my silly questions.

So enough of my bull­shit. I’ll let You Can Be a Wesley speak for themselves:



1. First, the inevitable ques­tion: Who or what is Wesley?

A Wesley is what­ever you want it to be. Not in a way like, “You Can Be What­ever You Want To Be” but more like, what­ever story you’re going to make up in your head about what you think our name means, or what a Wesley is, is prob­ably more inter­esting than if we told you. So we’ll keep you in the dark because it’s more fun for both par­ties that way. Maybe we should have a con­test where people write in and tell us what they think it is and we give a prize to the best answer. I just came up with that now but I like it so I think we’ll do it.

2. How did you guys meet and get together into a band?

We all met in col­lege at Boston Uni­ver­sity and we all lived in the West Campus dorms. The first time we were all together in the same place was at the Islands show at the Y in Cen­tral Sq in Cam­bridge. No one smelled bad so we decided we should jam around together. Our first record­ings were done in a dorm base­ment and Dan was playing drums on boxes.

3. It seems like every time someone writes about your band, you’re com­pared to the Pixies. Are they in fact an influ­ence on your band? What would you con­sider to be your biggest influences?

I think people really hear the Pixies in Nick’s bass playing. I know that they were a big influ­ence to him and when he learned how to play bass I think he took a lot from lis­tening to Kim Deal. Saying our biggest influ­ences is hard because we all listen to dif­ferent things and have over­lap­ping inter­ests. I know at one point it was Arcade Fire, Broken Social Scene, Dinosaur Jr., New Order. At another it was Envelopes, The Shins, The Ven­tures, My Bloody Valen­tine. It really changes all the time depending on what we’re lis­tening to at the moment. I like it better when people ask me this ques­tion when I have some time to think about it cause when­ever people ask me on the spot I freeze up and I can’t think of a single band I listen to. It’s like I can’t even remember that I listen to music at all. And then I go home and think of all the things I could have said to sound really cool and interesting.

4. Your single “Crea­tures” seemed to quickly result in a lot of pos­i­tive atten­tion in the media. Between that and your album, Heard Like Us, a lot of people are very excited about what you’re doing. How does it feel to make that tran­si­tion from “local band” to more wide­spread recognition?

I’m still always sur­prised when I hear of people knowing about us or talking about us out­side of Boston! I think the thing we were most sur­prised about is when this guy from Sweden who runs a Swedish Music mag­a­zine called Devo­tion sent us an email asking for an inter­view and said “Crea­tures” was on the top 20 songs of 2009. We were like “how the hell did this guy hear our stuff in Sweden?!” It was really awe­some. If we blew up in Sweden I would be totally OK with that. I guess that’s the beauty of the internet.

You Can Be a Wesley — “Creatures”

Crea­tures” starts with a pretty great drums-and-bass opening, but as with all of their songs, the vocals stand out the most to me. Saara’s unique, almost brittle-sounding vocals were the first thing I really noticed about the band, par­tic­u­larly com­bined with her ability to throw in that extra bit of energy at just the right moments. This is one of the songs I dis­tinctly remember hearing when I saw them in Boston, and the chorus there was simply explo­sive with an incred­ible response from the crowd. This is the song that seems to have gained the band the most recog­ni­tion, and it’s well-deserved. Have a look at the music video.


5. I’m intrigued by the mes­sage that’s apparent in some of your songs; for instance, “Make Up Your God.” What do you hope for people to hear in this song, or in your music in general?

I don’t really write the lyrics for anyone else but myself. I mean of course I want to make them inter­esting and thoughtful and aurally pleasing so that people can con­nect to them, and it gives the songs more depth, but I never write thinking “I have this mes­sage and I want to preach it to people.” In “Make Up Your God” it was some­thing that I was thinking a lot about during that time. Death and the after­life and orga­nized reli­gion. I think I had recently read Dharma Bums and was get­ting into some alter­na­tive thinking and that song was a state­ment on how I felt about the kind of opiate of the masses that orga­nized reli­gion has become (or maybe always was).
I do remember writing the second verse of that song after coming home from one of the best week­ends of my life. I had gone to see the most epic show at Randal’s Island in New York with two of my best girl friends. It was Les Savy Fav, Blonde Red­head, LCD Sound System, and Arcade Fire. Then we went to some ridicu­lous ware­house party in BK and our minds were just blown. That weekend made me feel a lot better about every­thing. That’s what it’s all about.

You Can Be a Wesley — “Make Up Your God”

I liked this song within its first ten sec­onds and, although this is prob­ably not some­thing that someone who writes about music should admit, I’m not sure I could prop­erly artic­u­late why. It man­ages to be the most soothing song I’ve ever heard about not believing in some­thing. That is, until the jump in energy in the chorus, which also makes this the most upbeat song I know of about not believing in some­thing. For a lot of people, I imagine that the words in the chorus (“The truth is you leave in the same way you came / You won’t remember a thing”) might stand in oppo­si­tion to the thor­oughly pos­i­tive place the song comes from, but for me it totally works. This song also has a music video.


6. I saw you play on March 8th. You guys seemed to be having a great time on stage and the crowd def­i­nitely loved it. For the majority of us who never expe­ri­ence it, what’s it like to play for an audi­ence excited about your music?

There’s nothing better than playing for an audi­ence who is into what you’re doing. It can really make or break a show. It makes us play better and we feed off the energy from the crowd. We’re excited about what we are doing and we believe in the music we are making so when we see that excite­ment returned it’s really gratifying.

7. Your band spent a few months on hiatus while you guys were spread across the world. I’ve read repeat­edly in the Boston press that you came back with a dif­ferent sound. How has your music changed since you started, and what do you see your­selves doing next?

That hiatus was some­thing that we all felt like we needed to do. It was our chance to live in another country with pretty much every­thing taken care of by our school. We knew that if we were going to commit our­selves to this band then this was the time for us to get away before we had to settle down. We joke that the band is like a mar­ried couple and we decided to get mar­ried, we recently moved into a big house together and we got a kid. Well not a human kid, but a really sweet van. It’s our big baby.
Our music has changed a lot since we started. A lot is prob­ably to do with where we were prac­ticing and the equip­ment we had. If we wrote a song with an acoustic guitar in a dorm room it’s going to sound like a twee-pop quiet folky song. If we write in our prac­tice space now with our big amps and pedals and all that it’s going to come out a lot louder. The changes are all pretty organic. We’ve never said “hey let’s change our sound, this isn’t working.” We just let what comes out come out and then develop the song from there. Some­times it will be com­pletely dif­ferent than what you first expected of it but it sounds awe­some so you just let it do its thing.

8. What’s in the imme­diate future for You Can Be a Wesley?

We’re doing a North East tour at the end of April hit­ting Mon­tréal, Burlington, Northampton, Prov­i­dence, New London, New York, and Philly. We’re also writing a ton of new songs and have a full album’s worth of mate­rial and more in the works. Part of that will be recorded very very soon but we’re still fig­uring out how we want to release it, whether it be a single at a time or an EP or a full length. We’re going with the flow at this point but we’re very excited about every­thing that we’re making and doing.


Seeing these guys play is a great expe­ri­ence, so keep an eye out if you’re near any of the above places. Until then, you can check out their album, Heard Like Us, avail­able on the band’s web­site. Give my other favorites, “Stuck in a Battle” and “Rearrange The Sea,” a listen while you’re there. Many thanks to You Can Be a Wesley for answering my ques­tions, and I wish them the best of luck with their tour and upcoming recordings.

everything goes wrong

Free. I was finally free of these blog­gers, their unre­lenting rumi­na­tion upon modern music and their end­less clever metaphors. No longer would I have to act as one of them. I had seen my chance, and I had made a break for it. But they were not far behind. I fled down a crowded street, pushing people out of my way. My pulse was pounding in my ears. My feet were pounding on the pave­ment. My heart was pounding in my chest. Oh, god, I thought despair­ingly, my inner mono­logue is so fucking repet­i­tive. Ahead, a bar loomed, a beacon of beery hope in an end­less night. Grate­fully I dove through the door. In the instant before I slammed it shut behind me, I thought I heard a dis­tant, deri­sive, and somehow tri­umphant laugh. But sud­denly all sounds of pur­suit had gone. A man blocked my path and loudly demanded a ticket. I began to sputter my way through some expla­na­tion and pat my pockets, for lack of any­thing else to do, and was sur­prised to find a slip of paper already in my right hand. Con­fused, I handed it over to the man. He gazed at it, nodded, and let me through. Dozens of people already filled the dark, humid space. I picked my way through the crowd, hoping I would be able to hide in here for a couple of hours. Then I saw it. A stage. A band set­ting up. A pit of despair opened sud­denly in my gut, like a sink­hole beneath a Florida residence.

Crap, I thought. They’re going to make me write about this.

a much better photo than I managed to getOn the 8th of March, Vivian Girls played Great Scott in Boston. They’ve been sub­ject to a bit of hype, so you might know of them already, but in any event, they’re a guitar-bass-drums girl band from Brooklyn. Their music, the first album in par­tic­ular, con­sists of fuzzy gui­tars and low-key melodic vocals with an almost lazy-sounding beat. Some might com­pare it to shoegaze. Their second album moves away from this some­what, with noisier guitar, pounding bass, and a little more emphasis on the vocals.

Seeing them live, it’s clear that, con­trary to what one might gather from lis­tening to their recorded work, they enjoy playing with a lot of energy and making a great deal of noise. Guitar work that can often seem indis­tinct and jangly on the album was instead played fast and aggres­sively. Vocals that some­times seem flat and emo­tion­less on the recorded tracks were instead shouted into the mic. You get the idea. This is one of those bands that’s a totally dif­ferent expe­ri­ence live.

They opened with “I Have No Fun,” the second track from Every­thing Goes Wrong, their most recent album, which imme­di­ately got the crowd moving. They also played sev­eral songs from the self-titled first album; for instance, “Tell The World” got people cheering after four notes from the bass. One song was announced to be brand new and was played for the first time that night. It hints at a promising future, though I didn’t catch what it was called. All in all, it was a good night, but let me give you the highlights.


Vivian Girls — “Wild Eyes”
This is the first song the band was known for, and I sus­pect it’s on the inevitable list of “songs we’re sup­posed to play” that all bands seem to even­tu­ally accu­mu­late. It can be found on their first album, where its sub­dued har­monies and simple, steady beat per­fectly exem­plify the band’s style at the time. They played it as their second-to-last song, and got through what’s two min­utes on the album in per­haps a minute and a half of noisy guitar, aggres­sive bass, and an energy that, unfor­tu­nately, isn’t quite there in the recording. Hype aside, the dif­fer­ence between what this band was doing in 2008 and what they’re doing now shows that they’re only get­ting better.

Vivian Girls — “Out for the Sun”
What can I say about this song? It’s from their second album, and it wasn’t my favorite before I saw them play, but it is now. About a minute into the song, the vocals drop away to fea­ture the guitar for a full two min­utes. Two gui­tars are present in the album recording, but with only one gui­tarist in the band, those of us at the show instead saw a full-on old-fashioned drop-to-your-knees-and-thrash guitar solo that forced the crowd to grad­u­ally stop dancing and simply stare in awe. After­ward, the song proper resumes at a faster tempo, pounding bass and drums leading the way to three crashing closing notes. Two people beside me had come for one of the opening acts and had no idea who the Vivian Girls were, but after this song I saw them turn and word­lessly nod to each other. Def­i­nitely the high­light of the night.


The band is still on tour and I rec­om­mend checking them out if they’re going to be near you. In the mean­time, you can find their record­ings over at Red Records.

into the mouth of madness

How did I get here? I never meant for this to happen. I had a wife once. Two kids. The guys at work liked me. We had beers at the pool hall every couple weeks or so. I found a cat behind the new house. I took it in. It would only eat the seafood-flavored cat food. It loved that stuff. We were happy. Now… now it’s all a dis­tant memory. I’m here, and… and everyone is just talking about music? And they expect me to talk about music too? No. You don’t know what you ask of me. The phrases here, so thoughtful. The musical taste, so… tasteful. No. You don’t want this. Not from me. But… but they say I have no choice. Listen, guys, can’t we dis­cuss this like rea­son­able adults? I… I guess not. All right. All right, I’ll do it. But you’re not going to like it.

Listen, it’s great to like bands who are “artis­ti­cally inno­v­a­tive,” or whose songs con­tain “intro­spec­tive” lyrics, or who can “play their instru­ments well.” But look, I’m a busy man. I haven’t got time for all that shit. I need my songs to con­sist of mul­tiple layers of noise delving in and out of each other, not to con­tribute to a greater whole, mind you, but in direct com­pe­ti­tion with each other. The gui­tars should be so full of dis­tor­tion that I can’t tell whether my speakers are shit or they actu­ally wanted it to sound like that. The bass has to want to be heard over the guitar, and not simply plod away in the back­ground. The drums should be more full of kicks and crashes than a star­tled donkey in the bev­er­age­ware aisle. There should be at least two vocal­ists trying to shout over each other, and under no cir­cum­stances should I be able to dis­cern what the hell they’re saying. In sum­ma­tion, a good song reaches such heights of con­fu­sion that I can’t even work out how many people are actu­ally in the band or whether they are in fact all trying to play the same song at the same time. And prefer­ably, it’s all deliv­ered in two min­utes or less. It might not sound good; in fact, it’s almost cer­tainly ter­rible. But it feels good.

mika miko singing and playing instruments like bands doNot long ago, I dis­cov­ered a band which per­fectly under­stood this phi­los­ophy. A band that went around playing shows for the sheer fun of it and released record­ings as an after­thought. Five people whose energy and enjoy­ment of their music is obvious even when you can’t figure out any­thing else that’s going on in the song. Trag­i­cally, late last year, the band decided to throw away a promising future in favor of higher edu­ca­tion and pur­suing ful­filling rela­tion­ships. Their loss is ours, but we can take com­fort in the fact that their few record­ings persist.

All right, enough bull­shit. It’s Mika Miko!


Mika Miko — “Take It Serious”

Imagine a hus­band, nearing retire­ment age, wearing a cardigan and slip­pers with the soles worn through, set­tling into what he still calls an “easy­chair” with a sturdy cup of ice­water and the half of the paper that he didn’t get to this morning. He finds a new record on the tray next to him by a band he has never heard of. It’s called “C.Y.S.L.A.B.F.” What could that pos­sibly stand for? Well, he decides, a little music in the evening might be just the thing. He starts the record, then picks up the sleeve again and scans the track list as the music begins. The first track opens with an aggres­sive riff, the drums kick off, and his mouth opens in a silent O of mixed amaze­ment and con­ster­na­tion as he real­izes that the ter­rible grammar in the title of this song is not some mis­take, not some typo; no, this band knows, and they don’t even care. What is she saying? he asks him­self in bewil­der­ment that is now becoming total. Wait, and what is this other girl saying? Why does she do that thing with her voice? And now they’re just shouting at each other! Why are they having so much more fun than I am! Because, my friend, this is Mika Miko. And your life is a lie.

Mika Miko — “Sev”

You know those people at punk shows who get right in amongst the band and wait for the really loud, frantic songs and then just bounce off each other like dis­ori­ented mice in a drug testing lab? This song was written for them. I’m not going to apol­o­gize for this song. It’s utterly ter­rible. There is vir­tu­ally nothing that might redeem it. Maybe the pres­ence of a sax in a punk song is a little inter­esting, but it’s been done before. The vocalist is strug­gling to be heard over the instru­ments. At one point she rhyth­mi­cally calls out “Okay!” as if it’s the only thing holding the band together, and per­haps it is. It almost feels as though the band is having fun while nobody else is, that their per­for­mance has become an unlis­ten­able mess. But that’s not so. Somehow it rises above all that. This is a beau­tiful song and it holds a place as one of my favorites of all time.

Mika Miko — “I Got A Lot (New New New)”

This band doesn’t have much of a range, I must admit. It doesn’t really need to. But regard­less, here and there a song stands out as being a little dif­ferent. This is a track from their most recent and per­haps final recording (although one last EP is rumored) called “We Be Xuxa.” It’s rel­a­tively clean. It’s catchy. The singer actu­ally sings… sort of (although she does still do that thing with her voice). It’s a nice little tune that you wouldn’t be embar­rassed to bring home to meet your par­ents. I believe that this song and this final album show that, in other cir­cum­stances, the band may have ended up doing some­thing more “inter­esting,” if you’re into that kinda thing. It’s obvious the band were aware they were recording their final album (another track, “Turkey Sand­wich,” con­tains a 10 second aside which is a sort of open letter farewell from one vocalist to the other) and per­haps they felt some freedom to experiment.


So, my new friends, that’s Mika Miko. The record­ings the band made over their seven year career add up to about one whole hour of lis­tening time. You can buy them from PPM Records. So go on, give them a listen. A band doesn’t have to be clever to be good.