How do I love This Is Happening? Let me count the ways...
First it was the soundtrack to idyllic days of post-layoff "vacation" - afternoons spent in the yard while the bunny frolicked in her pen in the grass, and I lazed on a chaise in the sunshine and cleared my head of every last cubicle cobweb.
By June it officially became my favorite when I declared that fact to James Murphy, who I found standing unassumingly in jeans and a white t-shirt in a field at Bonnaroo and whom I stone-soberly ghermed to the best of my ability by offering to purchase a beer for the man responsible for my favorite album of the year. He, of course, apologetically responded that he was drinking champagne, but thanked me graciously and offered to drink my "spirit beer." And I swooned. Several hours later I danced circles around my boyfriend and his friend (I was, of course, no longer stone sober) from 2:30-4 a.m., and fell in love with the album all over again hearing it live.
By October we had pursued the band like a determined high school junior asking the hottest girl in school to the prom, hoping we could lock them down as headliners for the music festival that was then employing me. Sadly they visited some college in upstate NY instead that weekend (just like the hottest girl in school would), but the boyfriend and I secured tickets to see them in Atlanta just days later. We were enveloped by a four-story dance party at the Tabernacle that threatened to punch air holes through the floor and swept us off our feet occasionally like a churning sea of bass lines and This Was Totally Happening and hours later and sweaty and breathless we mourned the fact that the band might stop touring but reveled in the fact that we had quite possibly seen their best show and our best show and that nothing could ever beat the beat dropping in the middle of "Dance Yrself Clean."
You can see how it might be my favorite.