Juggle it between frosty teenage fingertips like a HotHands packet concealed in the front pockets of the windbreaker you unwrapped last Christmas. Your fists have spent the better part of October balled into their anorak alcove, nails digging into the meat of palm-heels with half-authentic angst.
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Meadow’s Like Sleeping But Longer is a gallon jug of spring water, bottled at the well-hidden site of the Indie-Rock Fountain of Youth, a bottomless body of suburban malaise whose tributaries range from the wistful warmth of American Football to Slint’s spindly arteries of post-rock twinkle. To call the record timeless wouldn’t be entirely accurate - it’s more akin to an object of nostalgia in search of a decade to tuck itself into. Meadow is the sort of band that might have appeared briefly on an episode of The Adventures of Pete and Pete if the show aired in the early 00s. They’re mid-80s Sonic Youth transported into the last gasps of the 2nd millennium.
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The Ghosts of High School Autumns Past takes your hand — the two of you float above the umber oaks of a waning adolescence.
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