I can see allegory in an episode of Blue's Clues, but I can't interpret a legitimate artistic effort performed in my favorite style of music - how fucked up is that?

Tonight, for the second time, I watched Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood. In the months since I saw it in theaters in early January, I have taken up writing as a music critic. I believe that it is because of this that my two experiences with this film were vastly different. A good example: my first viewing of this picture left me with the impression that the main character, Daniel, was insane. And while a compelling argument could still be made for Daniel Plainview as a sociopath, tonight I realized that he did not fit the criteria of insanity: every action he took had the distinct motivation to bury all of his competition. Another instance of this change would be the unchristened oil derrick which catches fire, something which once merely stood as a tragic plot device to drive Daniel to ABANDON HIS CHILD, ABANDON HIS BOY, now stands out to me as an omen, a warning of the waste in living life without God's blessing. Or better yet, Daniel's insistence on surrounding himself with some sort of relatives, whether it's his "son" or "brother"; his obsession with family is not just a contradiction of character, as I at first mistakenly believed, but rather quite obviously is a compensatory façade. No one wants to do business with a sociopath, hence the cute kid. Whatever.

The point is, there are no cheap thrills left in my world -- there is no more reading for pleasure, no such thing as carefree, vacuous pop. Life is a blur of motifs and rhetorical devices. Excitement has been traded in for sterility, the carnival replaced with a clinic. In the words of Biggie Smalls, things done changed. Becoming a music journalist has altered my perception of everything. Be it film, literature, discourse, the critical mindset carries over - I can't just turn it off like a switch. Unfortunately, it would seem I can't turn it on like one either, especially when the subject matter is without words.

With the exception of the occasional samples or (heaven forbid) sung lyric, there is very little room for the expression of anything absolute or tangible in post-rock. It is extremely difficult, as an artist, to articulate concrete ideas through what is a largely instrumental medium; to interpret anything concrete as a listener is nigh upon impossible. I really don't have much to go on but raw emotion, and so to this end, all I'm left with are these abstract, indefinite feelings. In short, if a piece of music can't evoke any sort of emotional response – if it doesn't make me feel – then I cannot give it a favorable review.

This is music that makes me feel. This music will hopefully make you feel too. There's not too much else to tell you about Moonlit Sailor's aptly titled A Footprint Of Feelings: their music has no concept, story, or gimmick to draw in unwitting listeners. Instead of cheap tricks, they've simply utilized bombastic drumwork and the prettiest guitars this side of The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place to craft one of 2008's most captivating, engaging releases. As an LP, it is on the short side at 27 minutes. But if at the end of the disc I'm left wanting more, then how can I characterize this album as anything but a success? I don't think I can. A Footprint Of Feelings is a success.

What's more to be said? This is music that makes me feel. And for me, that's plenty.

-Andy Kissner