Weird Science: You're Gonna Miss The Long Days (LP)
Free MP3 download & GTRNR sticker
I met Zach Fuller in 2003, just a slight, grinning coyote of a lad, washing dishes behind the counter of the Union when they still served food. After a chili dog, I watched local legends We March launch into their set with a vacant mic set up like a tribute to a fallen friend. Then Zach barreled through the door, his shift over, stripped off his cook’s whites mid-stride, and hit the stage a full-on howling hyena. I have loved him without pause since that moment. But then hardcore singers and addicts are easy to love from a distance.
20 years later, a Weird Science CD showed up in my mailbox. I threw it in the stereo of my ’95 Jeep Cherokee with no expectations. It’s still in there. I can’t believe how fucking good it is.
“You’re Gonna Miss the Long Days” is like massive glistening black rat snake hanging out in the tall grass, neither evil nor benign, just something your mind latches onto and won’t let go. The out of time organ tremolo worms its way under your skin. The guitars shiver like they’re still drying out, still coming down. The songs are at turns sinister, comforting, menacing, alarming, welcoming, and eerie. They keep breaking my heart in the most rewarding way. Sometimes, the only thing tethering you to this world is crappy CVS milk chocolate and the cold comfort it provides.
The record sounds like the humid quagmire of an Appalachian college town hollowed out in August, hippies and burnouts and rednecks and dropouts and punks and queers and drifters and hangers-on slowly consuming themselves and each other out of boredom, dread, and anxiety. It feels a little like discovering a pristine old Choose Your Adventure book in the waterlogged basement of a shattered, abandoned house and making the decision to just sit down and give it a read. The possibilities yawn open.
There’s something tremulous in Zach’s voice that’s incredibly compelling. No, he was never some golden-piped preacher’s son and the years of screaming at drunks in bars have hardly sweetened it. It’s the sound of someone trying, or maybe just trying to try. It’s the sound of an old friend who has survived a profoundly lonely journey. It’s the sound of damage, weakness, vulnerability, the ravages of addiction, but also resilience: after all that, I’m still here.
- Mishka Shubaly
Free MP3 download & GTRNR sticker
I met Zach Fuller in 2003, just a slight, grinning coyote of a lad, washing dishes behind the counter of the Union when they still served food. After a chili dog, I watched local legends We March launch into their set with a vacant mic set up like a tribute to a fallen friend. Then Zach barreled through the door, his shift over, stripped off his cook’s whites mid-stride, and hit the stage a full-on howling hyena. I have loved him without pause since that moment. But then hardcore singers and addicts are easy to love from a distance.
20 years later, a Weird Science CD showed up in my mailbox. I threw it in the stereo of my ’95 Jeep Cherokee with no expectations. It’s still in there. I can’t believe how fucking good it is.
“You’re Gonna Miss the Long Days” is like massive glistening black rat snake hanging out in the tall grass, neither evil nor benign, just something your mind latches onto and won’t let go. The out of time organ tremolo worms its way under your skin. The guitars shiver like they’re still drying out, still coming down. The songs are at turns sinister, comforting, menacing, alarming, welcoming, and eerie. They keep breaking my heart in the most rewarding way. Sometimes, the only thing tethering you to this world is crappy CVS milk chocolate and the cold comfort it provides.
The record sounds like the humid quagmire of an Appalachian college town hollowed out in August, hippies and burnouts and rednecks and dropouts and punks and queers and drifters and hangers-on slowly consuming themselves and each other out of boredom, dread, and anxiety. It feels a little like discovering a pristine old Choose Your Adventure book in the waterlogged basement of a shattered, abandoned house and making the decision to just sit down and give it a read. The possibilities yawn open.
There’s something tremulous in Zach’s voice that’s incredibly compelling. No, he was never some golden-piped preacher’s son and the years of screaming at drunks in bars have hardly sweetened it. It’s the sound of someone trying, or maybe just trying to try. It’s the sound of an old friend who has survived a profoundly lonely journey. It’s the sound of damage, weakness, vulnerability, the ravages of addiction, but also resilience: after all that, I’m still here.
- Mishka Shubaly
Free MP3 download & GTRNR sticker
I met Zach Fuller in 2003, just a slight, grinning coyote of a lad, washing dishes behind the counter of the Union when they still served food. After a chili dog, I watched local legends We March launch into their set with a vacant mic set up like a tribute to a fallen friend. Then Zach barreled through the door, his shift over, stripped off his cook’s whites mid-stride, and hit the stage a full-on howling hyena. I have loved him without pause since that moment. But then hardcore singers and addicts are easy to love from a distance.
20 years later, a Weird Science CD showed up in my mailbox. I threw it in the stereo of my ’95 Jeep Cherokee with no expectations. It’s still in there. I can’t believe how fucking good it is.
“You’re Gonna Miss the Long Days” is like massive glistening black rat snake hanging out in the tall grass, neither evil nor benign, just something your mind latches onto and won’t let go. The out of time organ tremolo worms its way under your skin. The guitars shiver like they’re still drying out, still coming down. The songs are at turns sinister, comforting, menacing, alarming, welcoming, and eerie. They keep breaking my heart in the most rewarding way. Sometimes, the only thing tethering you to this world is crappy CVS milk chocolate and the cold comfort it provides.
The record sounds like the humid quagmire of an Appalachian college town hollowed out in August, hippies and burnouts and rednecks and dropouts and punks and queers and drifters and hangers-on slowly consuming themselves and each other out of boredom, dread, and anxiety. It feels a little like discovering a pristine old Choose Your Adventure book in the waterlogged basement of a shattered, abandoned house and making the decision to just sit down and give it a read. The possibilities yawn open.
There’s something tremulous in Zach’s voice that’s incredibly compelling. No, he was never some golden-piped preacher’s son and the years of screaming at drunks in bars have hardly sweetened it. It’s the sound of someone trying, or maybe just trying to try. It’s the sound of an old friend who has survived a profoundly lonely journey. It’s the sound of damage, weakness, vulnerability, the ravages of addiction, but also resilience: after all that, I’m still here.
- Mishka Shubaly