Album Review: Blow Your Memories Away Play That Song Again by Terry Wooley
Alright, let’s talk about this gem of an album from Terry Wooley—Blow Your Memories Away Play That Song Again. It's one of those records that sneaks up on you. At first glance, it feels like any other indie release, but once you hit play, man, does it grab hold and refuse to let go.
First off, the title alone is kinda genius. Like, what even is that? A command? A plea? Whatever it is, it works because it sticks in your brain like gum under a school desk. And honestly, isn’t that what good music should do? Stick with you?
Now, onto the tracks. I’ve gotta shout out “Driftwood Heart.” This song hits different—it’s got this raw, almost unfinished vibe, like Wooley didn’t overthink it. The guitar riff is simple yet haunting, and his voice cracks just enough to make you believe every word he’s singing. There’s something so real about how he talks (or sings?) about love slipping through your fingers like sand. You know, that feeling when you try to hold onto something, but no matter how tight you grip, it still slips away? Yeah, that. By the second chorus, I was already humming along like I’d known it my whole life.
Then there’s “Static in the Attic,” which might be my favorite track. Not gonna lie, the opening synth gave me chills. It’s not perfect—it wobbles a little here and there—but that’s exactly why it works. It sounds like nostalgia for a time you never lived through, if that makes sense. The lyrics are cryptic as hell (“I heard whispers in the wires / They told me lies ‘bout forever”), but somehow they feel personal, like Wooley is telling your story instead of his own. Plus, the outro has this weird little electronic beep that fades out too soon—you’re left wanting more, which is either annoying or brilliant depending on how you look at it.
What strikes me most about this album is how unpolished it feels. In a world full of auto-tuned voices and perfectly quantized beats, Blow Your Memories Away Play That Song Again dares to be messy. And honestly? That messiness is its superpower. It doesn’t beg for your attention; it earns it slowly, piece by piece, until you realize you’ve been listening to the same songs on repeat for hours.
Here’s the thing though—this album won’t be for everyone. Some folks will probably think it’s too lo-fi, too scattered, too… whatever. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe Terry Wooley made this record for the dreamers, the misfits, the ones who find beauty in imperfection. Or maybe he just wanted to blow our memories away. Either way, mission accomplished.
Final thought? If you listen to this album while staring out a rainy window, don’t blame me if you start crying. Just saying.
