Tag Archives: The Twilight Sad

LIVE: The Twilight Sad, Doug Fir Lounge, Portland, OR

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By Hollister Dixon

A little over a year ago, a strange thing happened: The Cure, the unbeatable godfathers of poppy goth brilliance, covered “There’s a Girl in the Corner,” the opening track for The Twilight Sad‘s 2014 album Nobody Wants to Be Here and Nobody Wants to Leave. While The Cure didn’t break apart the song in a way that transformed the song into something wholly unlike the original, their cover of “Girl” was a weird moment of game respecting game. For nearly a decade, The Twilight Sad have built an identity around loud, breathtaking, masterfully-done sadness rock, operating as the missing link between the songwriting chops of Arab Strap and the near-deafening sonicscapes of Mogwai. They’re an “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” band, where every release serves only to tighten their core aesthetic, rather than radically alter it. As such, despite their debut album Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters being their most complete sounding record, they’ve done nothing but get better as songwriters and musicians since then.

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LIVE: The Twilight Sad – Twice In Portland, OR

By Hollister Dixon

The Twilight Sad are a band I’ve loved since I first saw the cover of their debut, Fourteen Autumns & Fifteen Winters. That particular year, I would download just about anything and everything I could, because I wanted to digest as much as possible, and The Twilight Sad are a band that hit the scene just in time for 16-year-old me to get lost in everything. They’re a band that have never really put their influences on display, as much as they’ve playfully torn those influences apart, making the papier-mache creation almost totally unrecognizable by the end of things. It’s a band with incredibly obtuse song titles like “And She Would Darken the Memory” and “That Summer, at Home I Had Become the Invisible Boy” (a cunning Stand By Me reference). The artwork featured Norman Rockwell-esque portraits of family dissonance, with children in unsettling cloth masks. Their frontman, James Graham, sings in a glorious Scottish accent, the kind only Aidan Moffat dares to sing in. And – oh yeah – they’re really, really fucking loud.

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