New Madrid
Sunswimmer

The reality is that behind that child in the pool, a barren tree is tucked warmly under two months of snow.

A psychedelic spirit is pumped by bass contractions and circulated on the six strings by a distorted folk country swollen with echoes. It flows in pop vessels and distributes to the system the seventies' imagery with the awareness of someone who spent the nineties at the park or in the basement. Or at least, knows what it means to spend shields on drugs and smokes, and grandma's half-leg ending up in second-hand clothes.
With the advent of the first signs of cold, it releases nostalgic, warm energy, and that's enough. A pleasantly serious divertissement, which falls into hibernation with the blossoming of the magnolias.