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NYC Ghosts & Flowers is probably the cultiest album from one of the cultiest bands around. I think many threads on this website have hashed it over, I know I have at least three times, and I've only been posting for a year. That's what is most strangely enduring about it: the ambiguity of whether it's unspeakably awesome, interestingly novel, or embarrassingly silly. We can all sit around and wank over The White Album or Blank Generation, but no consensus exists on this artifact. I think this strange limbo in which it floats is utterly crucial to our reception and appreciation of it. But honestly, the textures, the rhythms, the monochromatic shards, how could you not love this if you love Sonic Youth? The title track is still probably their illest thing ever, and it's totally not rock and roll; more like jazz really.
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