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But they all look young, it's the beards that throw me off, and the hours they put into the mis-en-scene of their album art and band photos suggest the tip of naivety. Not by any stretch does that mean some of the pics included in the package aren't downright beautiful, they just don't mesh well with the fanciful escapades found here. Sienkowski exhibits a remorseful misogyny (notice the juxtaposition) throughout (and especially in this song), without exactly hunting his prey. Instead he's crooning into the blood purple Wisconsin darkness (much like a hetero Rufus Wainwright on the prowl) with a competent band behind him well versed in Kinks, Beatles, and surviving soul-draining winters. He seems satisfied with the echoes. This debut is rife with the raucous but rooted in more sublime territory. In a time when I'm longing for the E6 model of color-rich psych to counter the black and white lo-fi and gutter punk, this will suffice nicely. Please keep me on the mind when the next egg hatches.
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