This past summer I finally got around to watching Velvet Goldmine for the first time. Now if you don't know by now, I am a huge fan of glam rock and all that was encapsulated on screen furthered my love for a genre hell bent on taking you out of your comfort zone and shaking your core.
Skip ahead a few weeks. The Ark. Live in concert. Back in Los Angeles permanently post college. Margo says let's see the Ark. Hells yeah I will. Earlier this year, while music directing at the college radio station, a little disc that could titled State of the Ark is received in the mail. Open. Insert. Press play. Oh my. What is this? Rarely do you open a disc and find yourself entranced by track one, but E. Wheeler and I were [see This piece of poetry is meant to do harm] and it kept going track after track. This was one for the masses. Bowie, T.Rex, A little Jagger, some Elton, and a whole lotta charm. I don't know why, but said disc was sat on for far too long.
Skip ahead a few months. The Ark. Live in concert. What a show. Velvet Goldmine come to life. In love yet again, and this time State of the Ark gets spun with heavy rotation. From the Foot stompin tambourine shake of Clamour for Glamor right up to to the Ziggy Stardust vibe of Trust is Shareware, this band, and this disc begs for listeners, setting its sights on stadiums, fist pumping, and the freedom to be yourself. Don't believe me? Check this video below for a song that begs to song at the top of your lungs without a care in the world.
The Ark. Father of a Son. Do it to it.
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