High Pony Brooklyn, New York
Five meandering souls stumbled into an ocean of sound. The waves: Loud, screechy, girthy. Outlook: Unhinged, squirrely, lost, yet unafraid. Style: Alternative? Eh. Poppy? Hmn. Both? Maybe. Two voices, two guitars, 88 keys, one drum kit, broken cymbals included. The takeoff was smooth. Start looking up.
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