Bubs & Judd Review No Pier Pressure

[Dudd]

Dear readers, I am forced to end this review and the listening of the album prematurely, though the music and its uncorrupted passages will forever exist in the space behind my eyes. When Zooey’s fiercely erotic vocals entered the song, my colleague fell into a state of silent reverie, and his face contorted into an unearthly smile of downy tranquility. After Brian's chant of “on the island”, a burning chill shot down my spine. The rain and wind began to beat against the window pane, and I shuddered a horrible shudder. Zooey returned with her lyrics about rent, the chair Bubs sat in began to vibrate vigorously, and a lizard-brained yell tore its way from between my teeth. The electronics began to fizzle, sparks flung outward from the outlets in the wall, and the lightbulbs above us exploded. But I knew in my heart of hearts it was a moment of righteous ecstasy. The whistling cut through the torrent like a knife, and a hole was punched through the roof. Rain and the brightest light I have ever witnessed poured through the new cavity at our heads, and Bubs began to hover above his chair. His last spoken message from this reality to the next one was to "take it slow,” and he shot through the hole in the ceiling, as if he were lifted up towards his salvation by the heavenly light to bask in God’s sanctitude.

As for me, I remain--vaguely. Following the holy transcendence of my friend, I, the only witness, have felt all the vigor leave from me. Where I once had fair, smooth skin, the canvas of my body is now dominated with meddlesome splurges of blotches and wrinkles. However, with these wrinkles has come a new world-weary wisdom. I am now old, and this is not the familiar world I once inhabited. My friends and all the familiar locations and spaces I have visited in life have shifted, and perhaps it’s time I do as well.

Such is the power of No Pier Pressure.