You Don't Want To Know. So Now There's A Divide

I am uncertain about how to pronounce Menomena, and I sort of like it that way. I hope it's pronounced such that it almost rhymes with "phenomenon," which is how I like to let it roll off my tongue. If it's not, and it's actually something that sounds like a child's chant about a bully, don't tell me. I don't want to know.

While we're on the topic of my own insecurities, I am also uncertain that I'm actually smart enough to be listening to this group. They're sort of the musical equivalent of what Winston Churchill said the one time about Russia.

One thing I am certain of, however, is that this group will always produce at least one song that I find to be perfect on each and every album they put together. On their last one - you know, the one with the puzzling cover art - it was "Running," which could be about exercising too much, or could be about starving in a post-apocalyptic landscape while being chased by cattle. You just can't be sure.

On the new album, Mines, there are plenty of options to choose from - including the second track, Taos, which I'd swear I just heard a Followill brother running naked through. But my personal favorite is "Intil." (Until? Intel?) It's a little bit the piano; oh, that marching bit that kicks in at 2:30 or so. But only a little bit; the vast, vast majority of my affection for this song is lyrics-driven. Or lyric-driven, if you prefer, since it's really just the one sentiment, repeated over and over until it penetrates passive listening mode, maybe not until the very end of the song, when, just as it concludes, you think, "Wait! What?" And listen to it eight times over again, in a row.

"Sometimes I say too much. I never thought I'd lie."

Mines is streaming at NPR for another few days. Intil is the last track.