Crooked Legs

Gucci sneaks: homey, they cost way more than your rinky-dink Jordans

I sold my Jens Lekman tickets yesterday to a slouchy writer type. The unfair exchange was brokered by Craigslist and took place at an intersection in construction-addled Murray Hill. The sloucher - Adam - did little to hide his pleasure, that asshole. But, as I began to skulk away filthy with money, he said, "Check out The Acorn, they're an indie band from Canada that sound like a more funky Kid A."

Since I was pretty sure that he had just described the perfect band, I strode back home newly-inflated and ready to pirate yet another album.

But, Glory Hope Mountain did not sound at all like a funked-up Kid A. It's more like bluegrass for the American Apparel set, aggressive fingerpicking and double-tracked mopey vocals abound.

Now, not only is that jackass making off with my tickets, he's running around comparing unformed slush to (arguably) the greatest album ever made. I would send him a strongly-worded email or rant on his answering machine, but "Crooked Legs" is on the album.


The Acorn: Crooked Legs
from Glory Hope Mountain which sounds like every other album from a small, promising Canadian band - except more brooding and fewer fancy claps.