
Somewhere deep in the wiring of my brain, there are some jumbled up synapses. This is the part of my brain that decides to ignore hype—even when the thing being hyped is squarely in my Q-zone.
This has led to some gaps in my musical knowledge that make no sense. And in the case of Japandroids’ brilliant sophomore record, the exact overlap of my sensibilities are so close to the thing being hyped that you can see a perfect impression around it, like the swimming pool scene in Hollow Man.
Because friends, there has been a Celebration Rock shaped hole in my life.




They say hindsight is 20/20, but I’m not sure that’s the case. The lens of nostalgia often glazes over details with a broad brush, homogenizing the intricate diversity of moments in time into a monotone.
In the summer of 2005, my 
I’ve spent much of my life trying to fight the idea that the “local” in “local bands” is a polite way of saying “bad.” After all, if they were any good, wouldn’t they have graduated from being local bands, right? We all know the universe unilaterally reward talent with notoriety to a proportional degree, right? Obviously, we know that’s absurd, but the idea persists.