From Pitchfork:
Back in the day, specificity was Jarvis Cocker's thing. When he had some sweeping point to make, he'd keep it hidden: false downward mobility as a rich chick from St. Martin's College, the emptiness of fame as the porn on his hotel-room TV. That's over. On "Running the World", only hamfisted sarcasm stands between us and the blunt force of Cocker's fatalism and despair-- and it still kills, mostly because nobody else does hamfisted sarcasm quite so well: "Now the working classes are obsolet
From Pitchfork:
This is why Boards of Canada need to keep making records, to soundtrack the most gorgeous archival science footage imaginable. In 1960, Joseph Kittinger took a balloon up to 102,800 feet and JUMPED OUT OF THE FUCKING THING. I could watch slo-mo footage of his fall forever, and hey, if BoC would lay an ambient drone behind it, all the better. But then director Melissa Olson's imagination kicks in: What if Major Kittinger had a strapped on a surfboard before going up? [Mark Richardson]