Good morning, Joan of Arc, 1984. Appalachia amateur aurals crossed on a Chicago street with indie experimentalism. Echolocating in from childhood games among abandoned backyard cars, Punk Kid punches languid JOA exceptionalism. Maine Guy is a story told and re-told w/a dreamtrack unfolding during and after. Never for the easily-annoyed.
Good morning, Pitchblende, Au Jus. The problem with being outré geniuses a decade or two (or more) ahead of your time is, when the public is ready to give you money, your albums are out of print & the band members can’t get their payday. Indie rock falling through the Crab Nebula into a blender.