Unsure where this came from, if not the palsied hands of the good Lord himself.
Simple premise: Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” slipped from 45 to 33 rpm. Nothing more; no studio trickery, no trip hop drum breaks. The guitar lopes back in and around itself. The bass becomes elastic, hot rubber. The violin stabs become sustained cello lines. The backing choir’s split harmony rattles around, slinking ghostly into the corner. And most importantly, Parton’s once-frantic vocal is transformed from bubblegum country scrawl into something approximating field holler reverence.
An already perfect song made transcendental..
Who would win in a battle for my immortal soul: the devil on his fiddle or “Jolene” at 33 RPM
not sexy enough to be a vampire…..not jacked enough to be a werewolf…..not unsettling enough to be a sleep paralysis entity…..not shitty enough to be a goblin………..gnome it fucking is then i guess
@ all my friends who call me a vampire. take a gander at this and reevaluate
