Juvenile/Spiritual

It's now easier than ever to become a martyr
They're making me in stained glass as we speak
Someone did a number on that Catholic daughter
Her lips are clenched in prayer, she will not eat

There were spirits here today
I found eyeholes in our sheets

Singing hymns by candlelight
Casting out the madness
Meet me on the roof tonight
I'm waiting for an eclipse

Remember Saturday cartoons
Downstairs in the kitchen
Your parents in the other room
Studying religion

How did you come to fall in love
With such a dirty artist?
That poor boy's been growing up
Sleeping with his paint sets

The sun is coming up again
Begin our daily ritual
Worship performed from our bed
Juvenile? spiritual?

It's now early evening, all the TV news is on
Casualties recited to the beating of a drum
The war is in my living room, but I can always turn it off
I leave it there for comfort, can't sleep without the gunshots

The streets are getting cold
It's all I can do to sweat
I tried to sell my soul
But no one wanted that

Romance

Julius Caesar, sprawled out on his bed, eating crackerjacks and playing guitar.

Brush Our Teeth

Set down next to our dying star
With a telescope and a clumsy jaw
I write a book to feed the fire
I exercise before the riot

On the back porch we've got big ideas
Our father's eyes, our mother's fear
This has been our finest year
I find your waist and bring you near

We make sure we have both wept
We start feeling when we last slept
Coffee makes my stomach bend
But I want to be awake when the whole world ends

I get all my old film developed
And see some people
I haven't seen in years

I buy some food then have to sell it
I need that money
For newspapers

For some reason we go to church
There's people there who know our earth
Our ears are dry so nothing sticks
We come home with a crucifix

Let the animals out their cage
Drink and smoke like half our age
We get nervous and start to clean
We get quiet and brush our teeth

I shut down the house and go outside
I swear I never ever felt more alive
Than when I was dying
And she's replying

"Hurry up, into cellar"
Bless this make-believe bomb shelter
A morning meal, a lifetime work
Left to age on the surface

Down there we just talk and spit
Laugh when we both have to shit
Try to feel like nothing's wrong
Waiting for the atomic bomb

Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles

Boy: Hey Girl, how do you feel about electronic music?
Girl: I love electronic music.
Boy: Hey Girl, how do you feel about punk rock music?
Girl: I love punk rock music.
Boy: How would you like to be in a electronic punk rock band and take over the world and shit?
Girl: Okay-- wait... Can I still feign apathy and wear plaid skirts?
Boy: Yeah, whatever.

Shortly after this imagined conversation took place, the boy (Ethan Kath) and the girl (Alice Glass) shoved an Atari 5200 sound chip into a keyboard and got to work. Crystal Castles was born.

The first thing you should know about Crystal Castles is they don't give a shit. They'll sample the French vocals from beginning of Death From Above 1979's "Dead Womb" for for three minutes and then throw in two seconds of the actual song just for fun. They'll record their singer practicing in an apartment without her knowing, put it up on Myspace and get a record deal. They'll remix HEALTH's "Crimewave" and make it embarrassingly better than the original. And that's all within the first three songs.

The rest of the album is comprised of thumping, explosive dance music. And not just "dance" music. Music you will actually dance to. Sure, it starts with a single foot tapping under your desk. But believe you me, it ends on top of your neighbor's dinner table in your underwear shouting, "NO! LEAVE THIS ON! THIS IS GOOOOD!"

This is a common reaction after hearing the album for the first time. By the third or fourth listen you'll be able to sit still long enough to appreciate the brilliant arrangements, chock full of crunchy percussion and catchy hooks, pounding bass and playful synths. You can almost see Ethan performing live, leaning over a table that appears to be puking wires and colored lights, cooly bobbing his head to the beat while his fingers deftly create a sea of arcade sound effects and choppy beats.

While Ethan is responsible for the synthetic half of Crystal Castles, Alice takes charge of the organic, singing in a sneering, throaty yelp. She is the not-so-secret weapon of the group, featured most prominently on "Alice Practice," "XXZXCUZX Me," and "Courtship Date." Her lyrics range from the unintelligible ("Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail") to the vaguely sexual ("You're covered in the lotion / That was inside of me.")

It's true that the album is a little top-heavy. Crystal Castles dump all of their tricks into the first half of the album, saving little new for the last five songs or so. But what do you expect from two people so obviously more interested in creating the next great party than the next great record? Inadvertently, they may have done both.

I've found that I am an angrier person when I am listening to this record. Hearing its grinding electronics and shouts of frustration, I feel the urgent need to pump my fist in the air, shave my hair into a mohawk, and spray paint "BUSH SUCKS" graffiti all over the side of my school. If you have the time and energy for this kind of angst, this is the album for you.