Listening to “Gender” is like going to a black-tie event with your beautiful actress-model girlfriend, being told by some friends and your manager that this band you absolutely have to hear if you haven’t already is playing, having your coat taken for you before you remember to move your wallet from the front pocket where there’s always the chance it might fall out like it does sometimes in cabs, especially since it doesn’t even take much jostling to make anything fall out of that pocket, especially your wallet, but you can’t do anything but worry about it now because your agent drags you thru room after room thru throngs of people, some of whom recognize you and try to get your attention but it’s too late because now you’re in the ballroom and here they are on this bandstand surrounded by really-well dressed people who you now notice are all wearing costumes even though no one told you this was a costume party and when you ask your manager about it you can’t hear his answer, can’t hear why he forgot to mention the costume thing or why for example it wasn’t mentioned on the invitation about costumes, and your actress-model girlfriend is posing in a party mask for an impromptu picture taken by an inscrutable figure wearing what appears to be very expensive tatters whose sweat has mingled with make-up and the hor dourves you never saw being served and you immediately regret your decision to pull her mask when everyone near you reaches for your face and you’re sure they know it’s your face and try to focus on this great band whose drums sound like cannons and whose guitar sounds like desperate attempts to both heal multiple lacerations and to inflict deep cuts upon one’s self and yet you nod and nod and nod and agree that yes this must be true, this is how that one tune goes, yes but now you’re dizzy because it’s too hot in the ballroom and you are not surrounded by anyone you know anymore, maybe they were taken off, maybe they were kidnapped, who knows, and the vocals you try to wrap your head around only remind you that you’re on your own and that before you even got dressed for this shindig they were playing, that before you even woke up this morning, they were playing, that before you were born mon ami they were playing this most beautiful discord, this patient better noise. And you say to yourself, Christ this shit is good even though it may have been engineered to destroy you. “The work that was left behind all those parties ago came back with a vengeance in Entertainment” you’d write if you ever survived this thing, “they brought it back to relevance” you’d say, but your actress-model girlfriend whispers in your ear to just shut the fuck up and listen. So you do. And it’s amazing. -Jacob Kline.