February 9, 2001

Dakota Oak : How Danny's Friends Became A Force For Good

A fantastic intro should HAVE SOMETHING TO FUCKING INTRODUCE.

Fantastic intro. No, really, outstanding intro. The sound of someone hitting some pots with a sponge for a bit, then the retarded slide guitar of Damon Gough's dreams reels in breathing whiskey fire from its nostrils and waltzes with the tinkliest xylophone in
all Missouri, while a string quartet in the corner drop their oboes
(yes, those stringed oboes are
very popular these days, aren't they? Viola Ed) and try to tune
up some raccoons. It builds a captivating country swirl to the point where some walrus-moustached lumberjack troubadour with a bowed saw should burst in with a first verse that Mercury Rev would wrestle grizzlies for, and then... then...

Then it stops. Nothing. Nada. Fantastic intro, Dakota Oak (and stop hiding behind that Blue Ridge chic moniker, we know it's you, Dave Tyack from Manchester), but page one, line one of What Should Intros Do Then? states quite clearly that a fantastic intro should HAVE SOMETHING TO FUCKING INTRODUCE. Now you go away and think about what you've done, and if you come back to us with an album full of only middle eights, we're going to kill you.

Mark Beaumont