The Lacking Permanence

Martin is baring his soul, exposing his darkest secrets in a whispered croon, here inside this closet.

I’m not going to deny the synesthetic appeal of songs with words about pictures, but there is something additionally poignant about the mood created that seems to stand out. The images called forth serve a variety of purposes, from the reminiscent to the hedonistic, but just like your family album, the whole thing works out because it has to.

The driver felt the leads tremble under their hands. The navigator clung resolutely to the sled, keeping an eye on the white horizon of the Wexford hills as they put some miles between themselves and the Monongahela. The only sound besides the rushing skids on the snow and the panting of the dogs was a faint crackle of song leaking from the driver’s earpiece. The heist had been a success; behind them, a net filled with silver Mylar balloons trailed and bobbed in the generated midnight wind.

Solid songs that mix a generous dollop of traditional country elements with a big scoop of indie pop.

Heavenly melodies, luscious harmonies, over-chorused guitar jangles, and a sunny sparkling delivery make this suitable for ‘90s 4AD fans.

The thin Nebraska ice crackled ominously as one of the occupants of the well-appointed tent leaned back on their recliner. They peered at their line, descending into the near-freezing water and vibrating sympathetically to the sounds of the radio. The other ice-fisher threw a log on the fire, pausing in recognition at the song before smiling and turning it up.

Multilayered excursions into the analog and digital realms, blurring everything into a psychoactive tapestry.

The vessel floated silently across the Mississippi, as silently as a hovercraft possibly could, which was not very silently at all. The two occupants of the walnut-paneled bridge listened intently to the sounds of the radio above the drone of the fans, one of them spinning the wheel with wild abandon, the other plotting an imaginary course over river and land using a nubby pencil and printed map. The sextant lay unused, for it was, after all, night.

Eminently danceable and frequently dark, this is what robots put on to seduce each other

It was a jam-packed evening, and we even got to fit in a request for Mission of Burma for Generoso and Lily, listening over the satcom from their armored zeppelin thrumming over the Iowa cornfields. Also: the world needs more Franklin Bruno.