The wind in the trees is just like fire, like the rustling of curtains just before the stage lights go down. The moon's obscured by clouds, nothing makes a sound. And you are far away, and we are lonely souls. Just how lost am I in this? Would you have made my home? Where are you? A rough push from behind (pull from inside), I trip out into silence. Just darkness past the boughs (bow) and what is that waiting for me? Oh god no.
Toronto rivals San Francisco as the North American capital of jangle pop as evidenced by this new record of sunny jams from the Motorists. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 16, 2024
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