Pretty rad how these jangles skate everywhere and drums plod like some warped garage jam in an actual garage with a tumble dryer and and just stay that way, mining that no-wave surface with terrible and blank sort of eyes like Laura Mars greeting Kim Gordon. They have this sparkled melancholy and they like to mix their squalor with love and prescription drugs, mumbling their tattered (naturally) flannel poetry so blurry that you can't make it out, just the way they like it, echoing two seconds into the front of us.
[Children's Hospital MySpace]
[Buy Alone Together from Sacred Bones]
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