Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Interrupted for Technical Difficulties

Hi, folks. Sorry about the lack of content. Something's up with the Internet at home. However, I have a video of one of Two Cow Garage's new songs and hope to upload it when I can! 

Friday, February 21, 2014

Brothers Lazaroff -- Hope, Fear, Youth

Last year I pratfell in love with Doc Feldman and the LD50. As it turns out, one of my favorite songs from the album was actually written by a (younger?) and more hopeful group of humans. Doc made "Battle Hymn" sound like a dirge. In the hands of the Brothers Lazaroff, the song is an act of hopeful defiance. Each reading has its place, but the song is a knockout no matter who or how it's sung, and the rest of Hope, Fear, Youth is even better.


The band is (unsurprisingly) fronted by Jeff and David Lazaroff. But they did something smart. They didn't team up with some dudes and make an Americana band. They teamed up with some dudes and made an American band. The Brothers Lazaroff weave jazz, country, and soul into their rock. The result is a sophisticated gumbo that reminds me of Cowboy Mouth in its heyday and Paul Sanchez now: rock'n'roll with an emphasis on the "roll" -- a paean* to what makes our folk music so damn good.



Brothers Lazaroff -- Official, Facebook, Bandcamp, CDBaby, iTunes

*it took me way too long to find the proper spelling for that. Damn Greeks.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Towards A Pedagogy of Love

I thought I'd take a break from writing about music to write about my other love: teaching. There's a reason for this. Since that Daily Beast article I've expanded my readership. Since Howard Wolfson is a former Bloomberg politico, I've also seen I've gotten a few reporters and such in my Twitter ranks. This is a completely artless attempt to get their attention. But there's a lot wrong with teaching, and here's why I decided to write at this particular moment.

Last Thursday, I came home and cried for four hours.

Here's the short list:

  • On Monday, the city installed metal detectors in my school
  • Only five of my 18* kids are passing.
  • My kids have not been adequately prepared for high school in the slightest, and my inability to shift gears down to where they're at this past week made them frustrated with me and made me frustrated with myself.
  • I realized that my administration sincerely believes we will become better teachers if we stick to the Danielson Rubric, a ridiculous new set of guidelines that are being imposed across many states in spite of the fact that there is no study proving its efficacy. Meanwhile, one of the requirements of the rubric is to prove my efficacy...by using data. (Hint: my ability to regurgitate teacher-ese jargon does not help me teach my kids better.)
  • de Blasio ordered schools to remain open during the worst storm we've had in decades, knowing full well that it would not be an actual instructional day, effectively stating that a school's primary function is to warehouse children. I'm pretty sure my master's degree is for history education, not childcare.
* I actually have 20 on my roster, but two of them have never been in and I can't get a hold of their parents

So I cried for four hours because it feels like there's no way to win: we all know standardized test scores measure nothing -- especially if I'm getting 17-year-olds who are reading at a sixth grade reading level. If the tests truly measured proficiency, they wouldn't have gotten as far as my classroom. But even that statement is problematic: my students may have trouble reading and writing but they're fucking brilliant.

But the system is not structured to support impoverished children. I should note that smarter people than I have discussed this topic -- specifically how the forces of capitalism have converged in recent years to keep the poor down -- much more cogently than I can here. But that's not what I wanted to write about anyway. I wanted to write about why I was crying. (I'm a pretty selfish person.)

The real reason I can't win is this: as far as most people are concerned, my job is to make the numbers look good. But I know that my job is to help my young people grow into their roles as young adults, to be proud of themselves and their accomplishments, to strive for further accomplishments, and to resist the cycle of poverty. And I've found that the only way to do that -- in my two years of teaching and my twenty five-ish years as a human -- is to love the Hell out of my students.

Last year I taught at a middle school in the South Bronx. I now teach at an alternative high school for students who have struggled in more mainstream environments. We also belong to the New York Performance Standards Consortium, a group of schools that have been granted a waiver from the State such that our students only need to take the English Language Arts Regents. For all four of their subjects, students are expected to write a 7 - 10 page research paper. I don't think you need raw data to acknowledge that kids learn much more about planning, revising, flexibility, perseverance, and content by conducting these projects than they ever could from a Regents exam. And most jobs aren't interested in making you fill out bubbles on for Scantron sheet. At least not yet. The students then have to defend their paper like a graduate student would defend their thesis.

I used to really hate meeting new people. One of the things I hated was trying to figure out how to come out to them if the subject came up. I'd walk around at parties with this pit in my stomach and if the subject of boyfriends came up I'd brace my shoulders and watch their reaction, shifting the weight on my heels in case I needed to make a hasty retreat. Now I feel that way about telling strangers about my job. Because their reaction -- always -- is "Wow. You teach history in the South Bronx? They must be hard to control."

Except now I brace my shoulders because I need to keep myself from slapping strangers. It's just not a good way to make friends.

My response depends on how much I like the person who's hosting the party, how close the other guest is to that person, and how much I've already judged them for their career choice. (Financial consulting? How fascinating!) But I like to tell them the story about the thesis defense I conducted with the teen mom, the dropout, and the tough-looking basketballer who would make naive people cross the street. They each wrote papers about the effects of teen pregnancy and dropout rates in different countries. Though they were in the same class they hadn't realized that the other two had written about similar topics. We had an excited, hour-long conversation about the effects of poverty on education, what kinds of further research they would do if they had the chance, comparisons between their findings, and how young mothers really do need supports that society just isn't willing to give them. The conversation concluded with the two students turning to their classmate, whose baby just turned two, and telling her how proud they were of her for doing so well in spite of the extra stress she experiences as a mother.

Yeah. Kids in the South Bronx are drug dealers and prostitutes, just like you saw on The Wire.

That honesty, that tenderness, doesn't magically appear. Can you imagine a classmate (not a friend -- a classmate whom you kind of know) of yours in high school telling you that they were proud of you? It doesn't matter where you grew up or what kind of school you went to -- I'm pretty confident the answer is no.

The real difference between my first school and the one I teach at now isn't the age group or the lack of standardized tests. It's the presence of love and humanity. Throughout my entire first year of teaching I was constantly told "You need to show 'em who's boss" or "You need to be in control." Less helpfully, some of my colleagues referred to the students as "animals." No matter how these veteran teachers phrase it, the underlying message was authority comes from domination. Only then can you teach.

That's not how authority works. That's never how true authority works. That's not even how we conceptualize authority to work in this country. Right now I'm teaching the Enlightenment. My kids -- you know, the unruly hoodlums -- were fascinated by the idea of the social contract: authority only exists with the consent of the governed. You're letting me sit here and talk at you about the Enlightenment because you trust me to give you something important. They nodded. You've all been in classrooms where the teacher cannot or will not give you something important, and you've seen what happens. They laughed.

I've always wanted to be a teacher. (Actually, when I was in Kindergarten I wanted to be a veterinarian. But my path was set for me pretty quickly.) I can point to dozens of teachers who encouraged me, who made kind gestures, who helped me realize that I do have something important to give to the world. I knew early on that that "something" was to continue to pass the buck of humanity that they had given to me. In high school I understood that my good luck with teachers wasn't luck at all: when your parents can afford to spend an exorbitant amount of money on private schools, you will get the best education money can buy. And my rubbing elbows with the 1% somehow ignited a streak in me that Enlightenment folks would have derisively called "leveling": the idea that everyone should have equal social status, equal opportunities, even if that means classes should be abolished. (Fun fact: few of the Founding Fathers actually wanted a popular democracy. Thomas Paine actually forced their hands to create one by writing Common Sense. And that's why he's my home dog.)

I didn't really know what to do with that impulse until I read Paolo Freire's Pedagogy of Freedom in college. My understanding of Freire is limited, and one of the essays in Education and Capitalism (linked above) critiques the common interpretation of Freire's works (including mine), but I wanted to share my main takeaways from the book:

  • To educate is a political act and you simply can't hide from that. Even if you try to maintain a "neutral" classroom you are effectively shutting down any kind of political discourse, which ultimately sends the message that what you learn in school cannot be applied in adult life.
  • Your job as a teacher is to mold students as active citizens. But don't mold them into your active citizen. Let them believe whatever they want, but force them to defend that opinion. And do not withhold your own opinion (see above.) Just don't force it on your kids.
  • This last one I'm still working on, but Freire envisions a classroom where power and learning really are shared between students and teachers. I won't go into much more detail than that because it's not what I want to focus on here.
 I want to zero in on that idea of students and teachers as equals. I'm doing that because I want to emphasize something else Freire writes about (a point that often goes unnoticed): teaching is love. Not the kind of wispy Taylor Swift love, or the martyrdom of a Billie Holiday song (hi, this is a music blog.) At the risk of outing my savior complex, it's the love that I've only found expressed in Sufi poetry: the complete sublimation of the ego to satisfy the demands of another. The interesting thing about Sufi poetry is the Beloved (God) is expected to reciprocate these feelings. Isn't that what we want of our students? Don't we want them to find a passion and throw themselves into it (even better -- if it's the subject that we're passionate about?) Isn't pursuing an interest or goal for the hell of it the most human thing there is?

Teachers will never, ever be successful if our aim is to educate for content or for tests. The things we teach can never be divorced from the fabric of our lives. If I teach the French Revolution as a Thing You Need to Know for the Test then it will -- at best -- live in my students' memory as a Thing That Happened. If I teach it as an example of people putting ideas (the Enlightenment) to action, it might raise the possibility of doing the same with other theories about how humans should live. If I teach it as an example of people struggling against an unjust government, then it might raise the idea that people could, in theory, do the same thing today, assuming the government was unjust enough. If I teach it as the inspiration for revolutions that irrevocably altered the history of the countries they and their family are from, if I show them that the Enlightenment is not just a bunch of dead white dudes but very much a part of their own cultural heritage, if I teach it as a struggle to gain specific rights that are by no means guaranteed in our country today -- especially if you are a person of color -- then we've gotten somewhere. Then I'm teaching them something that's important, and then they sit still long enough to listen and think. Then I don't have problems with classroom management.

We can't teach if we stick to the test and stay neutral.

We can't teach if we think we have to control or dominate our students. I can't teach with that mindset because students won't learn with that mindset. My former colleagues, you will get nowhere fast with that mentality. I heard you blame the students and their parents for their behavior. You never blamed the system that let you live in the suburbs but forces your students to live in squalor. There's a lot to blame there, certainly. But when you assume that 25 - 30 minds and hearts and souls we hold in our hands for 45 minutes a day can only be taught if they're in a constant state of fear and resistance, there's only one person to blame. And that's yourself.

 If I am honest with my students about sharing power in my classroom, if I am patient and understanding of the difficulties they face outside of school, if I stay firm when they try to wheedle their way out of work (they are, after all, human and teenagers at that), if I value the (positive) things they do outside of school, if I encourage them when they face difficulty in school (they are well aware that they are reading and writing below high school level) and if I show them that I'm a person, too, then they will try to find value in the important things I want to give them. But only because I've put the effort into valuing what they do. That's relationship-building. That's love.

Erica Blinn and the Handsome Machine -- Lovers in the Dust

This is a week that's made me consider moving to Columbus, OH. First of all, there was Lydia Loveless's explosive new album, then I saw Two Cow Garage last night -- an am looking forward to seeing them again on Sunday. And now there's Lovers in the Dust by Erica Blinn. Is rock'n'roll (especially a preponderance of badass ladies with guitars) and fast food chain test kitchens enough of a reason to move to a place?


Blinn describes her music as heartland rock, and that's really the best route to go here. There's enough twang to establish her Americana cred, but Blinn's just a little too aggressive, a little too blunt, to play the coy country cowgirl. That's not to say she's not graceful or witty; she just doesn't have time for that shit. And neither do you. This is the kind of album that's more a crystallization of the live show: Blinn and the Handsome Machine are here to have a good time and knock back a few. Lovers in the Dust exists to get you primed for the party.



Erica Blinn and the Handsome Machine -- Official, Facebook, Bandcamp, iTunes, Amazon

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Shareef Ali -- A Place to Remember the Dead

It never ceases to amaze me just how much we can accomplish with the Internets. Shareef Ali's blog is fascinating reading on my end -- it gives perspective on just how much electronic pavement musicians have to pound these days. But somehow, a folk-punk singer-songwriter from San Francisco found out about a part-time music hobbyist in New York City, fired off an e-mail, and now here we are.


But we're not here for Ali's blog (though it's recommended reading.) We're here for his newest solo album, A Place to Remember the Dead. It's hard for me to get a grasp on the album because it does a lot of different things. It's more country than folk, but Ali's vocal style is firmly rooted in punk. His lyrics are sometimes earnest, sometimes funny, sometimes downright poetic...and he'll switch it up in the middle of a stanza. It's all over the place, but it's not unfocused. Rather, Ali embraces life in all its strange, conflicting moments: pain and triumph, heartbreak and renewal, anger and resignation. It sounds like a cliche, of course -- isn't this what most music is about? But let's consider the mind who slaps a lurid, glowing ribcage on top of a desert backdrop: this album is simple on the surface but is begging for multiple readings -- because listening to this album is just too easy, and Ali has put too much work in this project for you to ignore it.

Side note: he's got a little one on the way, so if you're thinking about buying the album, you should go ahead and buy it.

If you're in the Bay Area and want to show some love, check out Shareef Ali's release party TONIGHT (2/19):

Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco, 1233 17th Street.
Starts at 8:30, $8.
With SparkBox and Whiskerman.

Reno



Stone's Throw



The Tenderness in Me


Shareef Ali -- Purchase from Ali's official site, say hi to him on Facebook

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Lydia Loveless -- Somewhere Else

As far as anyone should be concerned, it is time to crown Lydia Loveless as the Crown Princess of Country, Duchess of Broken Hearts, and Baroness of Torn Emotions. If you hadn't had a chance to listen to the songs that have been making their rounds on their interwebs, you'll realize these titles are richly deserved 30 seconds into the lead single, "To Love Somebody."


For me, the most interesting songs on here aren't the ones about heartbreak or regret or blow. It's the subtext of being young and flailing about and trying to find your sense of place: after all, that's what's at the heart of the other problems. Nothing illustrates that more than "Everything's Gone." While Loveless is a restrained singer, she practically sounds like a banshee on this way. The pain's just right there -- on the surface it's about Loveless realizing she'll never be able to reclaim her childhood home, but really it's the moment when you realize your childhood, and its physical reminders, are lost no matter what you do.  Maybe it's because I identify most strongly with this song, but I'd say it's the best on the album.

Finally, I'd like to do some meta-commentary on the song "Head." It's about exactly what you think it's about. I don't know if this was a marketing decision from Bloodshot or Lydia herself but pretty much every review of the album I can find talks about how "scandalous" and "racy" this song is. As my students would say, it's really not that serious. It's ultimately a song about a tawdry hookup (co-written by Adobe & Teardrops fave Todd May!)

Is it because it's about -- for once -- a woman receiving oral sex? Maybe a woman getting eaten out is old hat for me (ahem) but that's hardly the most titillating sex act to write a song about. (New songwriting challenge: a ballad in honor of the Cleveland Steamroller.) Or maybe it just says something about America's continued narrow-minded ideas of what sex is supposed to look like. (Gentlemen -- there are some things your Manly Gift simply cannot do. Trust the lesbian!)

But goddammit, it is far from the most noteworthy feature of this album. My professional peers should have been focused -- with laser-like precision -- on Loveless's panache, talent, and authenticity. Given the state of pop music today, that's what should be making us raise our eyebrows, sit up, and take note.



Lydia Loveless -- Official, Facebook, Purchase from Bloodshot Records, Stream on NPR

Monday, February 17, 2014

Caitlin Bell -- Blood in the Water

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh vacation. Nothing like hiding in my (wo)man cave with some tunes and a mindless video game. (This week is Tiny Tower. What? I don't like killing things.)

Given the truly hellish week I've had (more on that in a separate, more ambitious post) nothing was more perfect to unwind with than Caitlin Bell's Blood and the Water.

 Bell's spare, Appalachian songs pack a powerful punch on this debut album. They're truly one-of-a-kind. Bell's just as easily convincing as a bitter winter spirit ("Cold December Night") and a returning lover ("Pallet on the Floor") -- luckily for me, both songs are available to stream from Bandcamp.

What I most appreciate about Bell's music is that it has a traditionalist touch but it could appeal to many types of ears. She's choosy about her source material; she's not trying to resurrect any ghosts. And that's what makes Blood in the Water stand firmly on its own.


Caitlin Bell -- Official, Facebook, Stream on Bandcamp, Purchase on iTunes, Amazon, CDBaby

Friday, February 14, 2014

The Modern Folk -- American Cave

Is today a special day or something? I'm immune to pink and red today.

What I'm not immune to is cool ideas. This post is not just about an artist, it's also about a music blog.

J. Moss, blogger over at the modern folk music of america has a badass vision. As Moss wrote to me, music recorded in bedrooms, basements, and closets -- no matter the genre -- is the new truly populist, DIY music of our age. His blog is a platform for all comers (as long as they're not represented by a PR company.) It's not for Moss to editorialize -- he just wants to publicize. There are some really cool folks featured over there. It's worth your time to browse.

As for Moss's music, it's hella fun. Fuzzy, forlorn vocals, drum machines (?), and jangly synths. It's absolutely a DIY album, so stay away if you like your stuff meticulously mixed and leveled. (More importantly, if you like over-produced music, why are you even here?) American Cave is very much an album about youth and feeling misplaced. And if isolation and regret aren't a timeless part of folk music, I dunno what is.



Modern Folk -- Official, Facebook, Bandcamp

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Englishman -- Unsafe & Sound

In an early episode of Nashville (shut up, yes, I mention it at least once a week and you'll have to get used to it), Avery Barkley describes his music as "cerebral alt-country" and you have to wonder if he's just pulling words out of his ass.

My theory is whoever wrote that dialog had a sneak peek at Englishman's Unsafe & Sound. There's no denying this is a weird-ass album.

Unsafe & Found is unquestionably a post-9/11 album. It's about the monsters -- real or imagined -- that haunt our everyday existence: loneliness, mortality, obsolescence. It may not be the music that cheers you up, but it will be the album to strengthen your existentialist meditations. Strangely enough, the album does not leave me feeling cold and afraid. The strange warmth provided by the strings in "Kids & Bipolars" is a solid example of this dynamic: the music itself is familiar and comforting, but what Englishman says is way more important than how they make you feel.



Englishman -- Official, Facebook, Bandcamp, iTunes

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash -- New Old Story

Stories about provenance are pretty boring, but I feel like it's important this time. If you don't care about how I found out about Bastard Sons, feel free to skip to below the image. But it's worth mentioning that studies show that our musical tastes are pretty much set after college, and I came of age during the advent of music streaming services like Pandora. It was there that I fell in love with the Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash.

My passion for Cowboy Mouth led me to a quirky little cowpunk-ish band called The Refreshments. Pandora kept matching the Refreshments (but not Cowboy Mouth) with bands who played distorted guitars and they also relished twang. They had names like Son Volt and Uncle Tupelo and Two Cow Garage. They had nasty attitudes and an arsenal of self-effacing puns.

And then there were the Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash.

I didn't know country could be, like, legit. It didn't occur to me that you could sing about trucks and honky tonks and mean it and still be authentic. The Bastard Sons showed me a different side  of alt-country: one that put the heart back into the mangled remains of whatever Garth Brooks et. al. had left behind.


And darn it if they haven't done it again.

New Old Story is certainly an apt title -- the only thing that's revolutionary here is swagger, not content. The Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash know what they're good at but, more importantly, they know what they love, and that love is obvious throughout the album. They may have lonely hearts, but this album is a love song to country music if there ever was one.







Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash -- Official, Facebook, iTunes, Bandcamp, Random Records

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Cold Country -- Missing the Muse

Here's a short review for a short EP: Missing the Muse is the kind of daydreamy album that's perfect for a lazy Sunday morning.


From the pen of Chicago-based audio engineer Sean McConnell and friends. McConnell uses his expertise to great affect here -- the mix is warm and lush with harmonicas and synthesizers, but McConnell himself stands alone. It fits; these songs are sun-dappled and lonely, much like (my) Sunday mornings.



Cold Country -- Facebook, Bandcamp

Monday, February 10, 2014

Zack Shelton and 64 to Grayson -- The Next Chapter

Does anyone else think it's a bit strange that country is dominating the "industry" right now? It seems to me that most of the kids these days are into hip-hop or the folk coming out of trendy urban areas (it was a struggle to describe the second one with neutral language.) Amy Ray's interview at No Depression got me to thinking. Maybe it's that young people don't have much purchasing power anymore so middle-aged people, who are the ones buying CDs, dictate the market? Or is there some larger force that's making Southern culture more palatable above the Mason-Dixon?

Maybe it's my obsession with Nashville but Zack Shelton's smooth, ready-for-primetime vocals are landing more in my ears more comfortably than they might have a year or two ago. These boys pack a punch, though -- they're more than some record exec's creation (I'm looking at you, Will.)


Shelton is certainly the main draw here: he's a powerhouse who could be compared favorably with Austin Lucas (see "Dear Juliet.")

While it should surprise no one that I'm drawn toward the more rock-based songs like the blistering opener "Bristol," I can see where a dyed-in-the-wool country fan would love more polished numbers like "Line of Fire." Either way, The Next Chapter is a helluva sophomore album. I hope it brings these guys beyond Grayson, Kentucky.

Bristol



Dear Juliet



Next Chapter



Zack Shelton and 64 to Grayson -- Official, Facebook, iTunes

Friday, February 7, 2014

Cahalen and Eli -- I'll Swing My Hammer With Both Hands

Last year the blogosphere tripped over itself with praise for Cahalen and Eli -- myself included. The general theme was the duo's ability to seamlessly weave original songs with the classics. This time around, Cahalen and Eli have kicked up a notch.


The album has a distinctly Appalachian feel (at least to my untrained ears.) The songs trade stateliness for fancy licks. This is a party album, to be sure, but the slower songs like "Off the Chama" will put a little mist in your eye. For me, the highlight of the album is the title track. "Livin' in America" is that curious folk song that makes you feel triumphant and alive until you take a second look at the lyrics. (I'm pretty sure that characterizes half the music I love. What does that tell me about my character?) At any rate, I'll Swing the Hammer is sure to be one of the finest folk albums released this year. Get the jump on it now.
Cahalen and Eli -- Official, Facebook, Bandcamp, Spotify

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Dead Professional -- I'm Not the One

This week has turned out to be pretty hellish in terms of work, so I'm afraid I'll be posting a number of short entries for the remainder of this week.

One thing that has absolutely made my week better is Dead Professional's new song, "I'm Not the One." It's certainly more upbeat than his earlier stuff, but that doesn't mean it's less powerful.


Dead Professional -- Official, Soundcloud

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Kory Quinn -- At the End of the Bar

Kory Quinn's the bluesman you didn't know you were missing.

At The End of the Bar is a deliciously old-timey album that never leaves you with the yellowed patina of reconstruction nor that sticky Sweet'n'Low feeling of artificial retro revival. You get the sense that this is the kind of music Quinn was born to play.


Describing music as "old timey" is usually a surefire way to get me to pass on it. Trust me when I say there's something for everyone here. Quinn explores Cajun just as easily as country rock. He can croon and howl with the best of 'em.

If you live in Chicagoland and have a hankering for honest-to-God country on Saturday, check Quinn out at the Hideout.


Kory Quinn -- ReverbNation, Bandcamp

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Scott H Biram -- Nothin' But Blood

I don't think I was quite prepared for Scott H Biram.

I know he's one of the giants of alt-country but I had never gotten around to listening to his work. I knew he was a raucous bluesman-type, but Nothin' But Blood takes it to a whole new level.


Recorded from Biram's home studio, Nothin' But Blood is a tour de force of lovin', fuckin', cryin', prayin', and screamin'. It's blues, it's country, it's gospel, it's punk, it's black metal. Don't let the mild-mannered single "When I Die" disappoint you. This album is nothing short of a rock'n'roll exorcism. It'll make the hair stand up on your arms and maybe, depending on how far in your cups you are, it'll make a believer out of you.



Scott H Biram -- Official, Facebook, Purchase from  Bloodshot Records

Monday, February 3, 2014

Turchi -- Mind's Eye

Normally I don't care that much about music videos. I set them aside for days like today, when work got in the way. I'm too proud of my uninterrupted M - F update schedule to let a thing like life disrupt it.

Normally I don't even watch the music videos. If I like the song enough or if it's from an artist we've already heard from here, it gets presented without much comment.

But this new music video by Turchi is truly a work of a art. Stitched together from clips of a movie called Terror in Tiny Town, it's almost as brilliant as the song itself.



Keep your mind's eye here for when Turch releases their next album in April.

Turchi -- Official, Facebook, Bandcamp