Modern Art

The riff arrives like a thesis statement — simple, cyclical, slightly antagonistic, impossible to dislodge from the brain. Built around a guitar figure that any bored teenager could play in an afternoon, "Modern Art" channels the great tradition of rock songs that justify their own existence through sheer audacity of concept. Mark Ronson's production for the *Arabia Mountain* album gave the Black Lips their cleanest recording to date, and here that clarity becomes the joke and the point simultaneously: the song about the absurdity of declaring something art is itself meticulously crafted. Cole Alexander's vocals carry pure deadpan, reciting imagery of creative pretension with the same blank affect one might use to read a grocery list. The drums hit with a crispness that almost sounds wrong for this band, but the tension between polished execution and deliberately dumb content is the engine the whole track runs on. It's a garage rock song that went to art school just long enough to make fun of art school. Play it at a party where at least one person is insufferable about aesthetics, and watch their face cycle through confusion, recognition, and reluctant enjoyment.