Elliot Lipp used to sell URB editor
Joshua Glazer’s used CDs and music
paraphernalia on eBay. I ain’t no snitch:
but it’s true and it needed to get out. Like
the rain in a cloud. Because much of Lipp’s
fi rst record, Tacoma Mockingbird, was
about ‘pouring,’ from his rain-drenched
days in the Pacifi c Northwest to lack of
moisture in his desert-bare moments of
Los Angeles-but The Outside? The dude is
currently located in Brooklyn and his new
shit seems to take on the sunny disposition
of the snow-less land he left behind. The
opening plucks on ‘The Area’ eventually
fi ll out into squelchy bliss, while the angry
violence of a drum machine tap-taptapped
into existence gets quite crunchy
on cuts like ‘Baby Tank.’ The title track
and album opener whips along like too
much tequila in a ‘66 Mustang on an open
road, you might not be going as fast as you
think, but it’s still probably too fast. What
it all means is like attempting to defi ne a
hike. What it all means is like comparing
her walk to hers. What it all means is like
a song called ‘The Meaning’ actually
meaning something.

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