Lou Barlow


[1] The front cover of Emoh features a drawing of a house with some kind of brown cloud coming out of it, as if to insinuate the stuff on the disc is some pretty explosive material. After listening to the Sebadoh/Folk Implosion chairman’s new disc, I think the house is a metaphor for the furry, atmosphere-gagging shit Barlow’s taking all over the stereos of those gullible ’90s hipsters who collected every vile rat fart he ever squeezed onto disc or 7-inch. As singer-songwriters go, Barlow’s not worthy to make a Starbucks run for Conor Oberst, Jim White, Joseph Arthur or Chris Carrabba. Hell, I bet Elliott Smith feels sorry for Lou right about now. Emoh will appeal to Lou’s fans; and when you consider how his last projects were greeted, that number would have a hard time filling a phone booth. Bye, Lou; and no, we do not want fries with that. (Merge) -Jason Pettigrew