When I heard about it, Your Mom seemed like something I really wasn't going to be able to get into. Considering its above-and-beyond shelf life and somewhat bloated production, I was setting myself up for certain disappointment. What with the diminished veneer, and the absence of the spark of freshness and all. But once the incapacitators that I put in its drink took effect, Your Mom continually surprised me all through the night, earning more than its other critics have said it deserved.
It started slow, empty, atmospheric, the way I like most things. Most of the newer-feeling releases I experience just sort of leap on you and start tearing off your clothes right away, but Your Mom started with a very gentle, almost motherly hand on my knee (metaphorically speaking, of course). Every spoken word was like a bedtime story, soothing me into what I had no idea would be a raucous rollercoaster of truly epic proportions. As Your Mom escalated to a point of intensity, when you reach that first crux after which you know you can't leave, can't go back, must go forward, I found myself purely enthralled, finding its gritty exterior more and more beautiful. Beautiful in that manner in which you want to destroy it, to defy it by thrusting yourself upon it so fully that all remaining semblances are erased by detonation.
By the time it really got going, I thought Your Mom was never going to let me go. I felt trapped, panicky, but reluctantly pleased. This type of release hadn't ever been something I thought could rock my world so, but it did. It really, really did. Every turn my brain tried to make, Your Mom cut me off, ending me at a brick wall which I was forced to slam my head into in order to make sense of it all. Feelings were gushing from me as if I had no control. There was laughter, there were tears, there were moments of unmitigated childish hysteria, but Your Mom embraced me, told me that everything was going to be all right, even as it kept going as if it had no care in the world for me.
When it ended, Your Mom left me sleepless. It's the kind of release that destroys itself, but leaves you wanting to build. You get into the car afterwards, start driving home, thinking all you want to do is fall into your bed and not rise from it for two whole days. But you first fall to your couch, expel a heavy sigh, find that you can't blink. You count your DVD collection, compelling your body to make at least the first move toward your bedroom.
But you can't. Your Mom has shaken you to your core, so that your functions in life come to a standstill, and all you can do is exist. It's amazing, phantasmagoric, mind-blowing. To fully understand it, you'll have to keep going back. But how? How can you reach that pinnacle of life again after having it that just once?
Just thinking about it, I feel helpless to do so.
I wish I could rate Your Mom above 5.0, but I can't, so I'll have to settle for perfection.
It started slow, empty, atmospheric, the way I like most things. Most of the newer-feeling releases I experience just sort of leap on you and start tearing off your clothes right away, but Your Mom started with a very gentle, almost motherly hand on my knee (metaphorically speaking, of course). Every spoken word was like a bedtime story, soothing me into what I had no idea would be a raucous rollercoaster of truly epic proportions. As Your Mom escalated to a point of intensity, when you reach that first crux after which you know you can't leave, can't go back, must go forward, I found myself purely enthralled, finding its gritty exterior more and more beautiful. Beautiful in that manner in which you want to destroy it, to defy it by thrusting yourself upon it so fully that all remaining semblances are erased by detonation.
By the time it really got going, I thought Your Mom was never going to let me go. I felt trapped, panicky, but reluctantly pleased. This type of release hadn't ever been something I thought could rock my world so, but it did. It really, really did. Every turn my brain tried to make, Your Mom cut me off, ending me at a brick wall which I was forced to slam my head into in order to make sense of it all. Feelings were gushing from me as if I had no control. There was laughter, there were tears, there were moments of unmitigated childish hysteria, but Your Mom embraced me, told me that everything was going to be all right, even as it kept going as if it had no care in the world for me.
When it ended, Your Mom left me sleepless. It's the kind of release that destroys itself, but leaves you wanting to build. You get into the car afterwards, start driving home, thinking all you want to do is fall into your bed and not rise from it for two whole days. But you first fall to your couch, expel a heavy sigh, find that you can't blink. You count your DVD collection, compelling your body to make at least the first move toward your bedroom.
But you can't. Your Mom has shaken you to your core, so that your functions in life come to a standstill, and all you can do is exist. It's amazing, phantasmagoric, mind-blowing. To fully understand it, you'll have to keep going back. But how? How can you reach that pinnacle of life again after having it that just once?
Just thinking about it, I feel helpless to do so.
I wish I could rate Your Mom above 5.0, but I can't, so I'll have to settle for perfection.
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