You herd the unsound when we’re listening.
Shake up a dust cloud, the sun, the rain, the soil, the seed.
And just a whisper, if we open an ear,
Reveals the nature of the fold, the flock, the bringing in.
You turned out a light, and sat in a dark room.
Yielded a dim desire, got up and set the deck on fire.
So gather the hands and drift 20 ft. up
Above the shade on a sunless sea.
No cords above. No props beneath.
No camera tricks. No chroma key.
And yeah, most boats float with half their hull below,
Displacing equal loads, and casting no shadows.
You herd the unsound when we’re listening,
And name the worst of us the enemies of loneliness.
In the moments when we’ve taken it on,
We’ll give your ghost a crown and trust you’ll turn these stones to dust.
No cords above. No props beneath.
No camera tricks. No chroma key.
And yeah, most boats float, but not like this they don’t.
Effervescent pop without a drop of irony, perfectly geared for fans of the more dance-oriented side of indie music and Tears for Fears. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 2, 2023