Oceans Never Listen to Us Anyway

To say that it’s been hot the last few weeks in New York is a bit of an understatement. Coming from the humid-less West Coast, it’s taken me a while to get used to this thick, overbearing heat. I grumble and I bicker, sure, but mostly I kind of just meander along, leisurely strolling down the block, wiping the sweat from my brow and trying to tell myself that everyone else is just as miserable. But I’ve noticed that I have a different reaction to the heat; instead of running to Sears or Target to purchase an air conditioner, I’m learning to live with the stickiness, the pit stains, and the slow, languid pace of summer.

Some of my favorite moments on Wye Oak’s Civilian move at the same pace. Though I was initially awestruck by the more immediate songs (“Holy Holy,” “The Altar”),  it’s the slow burners that are really doing it for me the last few weeks. Wye Oak has never been a band that plays particularly fast; instead of going for the quick rave-up, it delights in subtle rhythmic changes and sudden blasts of noise. “Plains” feels like the Brooklyn summer air: dense, wet, and impossibly thick. It’s not a place that I would want to inhabit forever, but during a summer of change, it’s consoling to know that I can survive in such discomfort.