Retrograde dips and peaks in all sorts of ways that narrate such a weave within our lives that evenutally dayGLO bellbottoms will be attached to mini-disc applications that spin on kneecaps, and clicking heels will auto skip tracks, or read the tempo of your steps to play with the speed of your walk. But the bonus points of retrograde is serendipity. Think of the first time listening to 2Pacalypse Now in the back of Danny Reo’s house between Adam Sandler albums shooting 21, getting nowhere, and tying bandannas to EVERYTHING. Then last week on the 7-train, passing by Flushing, Queens basketball courts listening to Still Brazy, and it’s like “Where do I purchase a Spalding rock ASAP?”
Cut to your perfect New York City rock-and-roll soundtracks: anything Interpol or Strokes. Then Mirror Universe Tapes up and releases the newest Posh Lost self-titled album, and maybe this coming fall season will be as blissful as leaping into a pile of leaves, again. Central Park and the colors just as September grips the half-way point. These guitars’ surf-echoing and soaring in weaves throughout skyscrapers. Chinatown’s smell is a little more diluted and less muggy with a steady beat that makes grocery shopping a mini workout. The sunset’s color painted by the trees it grazes against synthetic pensive thought that keeps one’s mind-eye focused, and patient.
Be within the nostalgia. It’s undeniably creeping around the corner. Forever. And Posh Lost is bringing vibes that makes the summer’s impending closure a bit more anticipated. Thanks to Mirror Universe, we can all rest a little easy and feel the fervor of season:
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