Man Man's Rabbit Habits:
I have the urge to encase myself in bubble wrap and leap from the top step of the 47th floor of this office building. While tumbling down I will press play on my discman and hope the ride doesn't skip the CD too much. The album playing will suitably be Man Man's new hatchling, Rabbit Habits. It will fit nicely. The thumping and bouncing and complex chaos will go nicely with a staircase plummet. I say this and realize it is tough to envision this statement to be complimentary, but try to envision a pain-free ride down a staircase- the disharmonious flight of arms and legs flung about in every direction as heads go over heels again and again for flight after flight. Add a bunch of crazy facial hair and a bloody butcher's apron to this image and you have this man man record.
The fact of the matter is, Man Man exist in a universe very few other bands venture towards. A place where filet mignon is served with baked beans and everyone drives purple cars with eight-ball shift knobs. It's a lovely place and I like to visit, but don't know if I could live there. The order and regularity that most of us live our lives with seems to be tied down and locked in the basement. It's entirely frightening and what makes Rabbit Habits such an amazing listen.
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