Clever album title aside, I love a band that's got their bearded to clean shaven ratio sorted out, isn't overly annoying when they go for the "our look is no look" thing, that the lead singer has a limp pink handkerchief in the breast pocket of his ill-fitting sport jacket, and everything about the guy playing guitar on the right. Oh, and trumpets! If all of their songs are like this, Cursive is a band that can reside in my heart (and iPod) in the same section Wilco does. At the end of the performance, Dave who appears mightily impressed, asks where they're from. The answer, Omaha, Nebraska, is just right.
And the lyrics are great too. A couple I wish I could have written:
I'm at my worst when I'm at my best./I'm at my best when I'm trying to look and think and talk and sing and read and write like all the rest./We're all just trying to play our roles in a play that runs ad nauseum./We were better off as animals.
We're at our worst when it's from our lips./From our lips, we caused a rift./ And the world is falling in./From Babel to borrowed brawls./Our words have formed a death sentence./And I wish that we had never talked/ Our hips said it all.