This is a conversation I have with my musically inclined brother on almost a biweekly basis:
Him: Whitney, you should listen to blah blah blah blah.
Me: Oh, cool. How much hipster cred is it worth?
Indignant Him: That’s not what it’s even about! These guys are really reminiscent of, like, blah blah blah blah (I love him ever so, but at this point in the chat he kinda loses me. Bless his little indie heart).
Eric, I know you wanted me to grow up to be that cool chick drummer from the White Stripes, and instead you got the sixth spice girl (Sister Spice! I slay myself sometimes). In Benjamin Booker, though, I think we might finally find some common ground. You can appreciate his Jack White Certified musical chops, and I will appreciate the rest of him. For those of you who don’t share mitochondrial DNA with us, here is a Booker tune so you can join the conversation too.