“They had the habit of tackling everything extremely slowly. If one of them wanted to rub his eyes, he raised his hand as if it were a hanging weight.” – Franz Kafka “A Report to An Academy”
Slow heavy music is fucking mess, yo. It dirties your drawers and your dreams. You can’t clean it up. You either can’t dance to it at all or else it transforms you into quicksand Bob Fosse, lockjaw Margot Fonteyn.
On their debut full-length, Love Hangover, Louisville’s Old Baby remove everything from the room except heaviness. Every time there is a lift in mood or pacing, you feel the gravity pulling it back down more than you feel the elevation. This is gravity harnessed, strapped to the table, dissected like an alien. This is the gravity between your skin and your clothes. Between your ribcage and your heart. I’ve never been to Louisville, but this album makes it seem like it’s miles below sea level and always dusk. What a kickass album.