Tag: Beachwood Sparks

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Some of us are lucky. Some of us get to sit in a comfortable broadcasting studio and play Orville Peck, while others are hacking their way through a couple of gloomstalkers with nothing but the barely-magical weaponry a fifth-level figher can afford.

Dating back to a time before the whole phrase was unceremoniously truncated to “chillax”, Serge Gainsbourg’s imploration to enhance your mood is given a frantic workout by Stereo Total and in this case, their toy electronic noisemakers are a welcome homage. Elsewhere this show, we have Carl King’s prog-rock-and-glockenspiel interpretation of Rebecca Black’s infamous “Friday” … and it’s quite the improvement.

The accordionist’s boot was tangled in a mangrove root. The deepening dusk of Meads Bay Pond brought with it a soft breeze and an ugly threat of bug swarms. Their chances of getting to the beach and capturing enough glowing sugar crabs were dwindling. The roots, more like underwater dreadlocks, heaved as the booted foot attempted to twist out, the accordion case held high as counterbalance. The technician glared at the spectacle briefly before shining a light on the clipboard. In the distance, a barbershop quartet with a Tuvan throat-singing baritone made it incongruous presence known. The keys to the long-range waterbikes had a floaty thing on them, but they were permanently attached to the metal clipboard, which would sink like a stone. The Governor’s Office back in The Valley would certainly hear about this.