All the music is imbued with a gravely bluesy feel thanks to the smoky tenderness of singer Teisha Helgersons earthly voice. What makes this band a touchstone of Indie brilliance are the lyrics. Scott Weddles thought-provoking strings of poetry are an elixir for those who crave a world in which words and language are integral, not antithetical to the music.
Broad brush strokes of lithe and supple melodies become more focused by the finer details of Weddles brilliant metaphorical prose. In the short and haunting gem of Edison Last Breath we are intrigued by the Spartan spin of these lyrics:
Take the bottle off the shelf, my sweet Elizabeth
And trap the life thats left inside like Edisons last breath.
The big hand points at seven, the small hands on the ten
Tomorrows here but may not come again
Its cooler than a killers heart as gentle as a sigh
Promises to never leave your side.
In Marigolds, the combination of Hedgersons pleading voice and Weddles wistful lyrics create a triage for the fickleness of love. A story of suitors not willing to stay:
The seesaw sky and the merry moon go round
The swing set chains in the breezes blowing down
Penny drops and finds her feet but could have used a hand
Not marigolds and maybes from someone flashing in the pan
Ameilas originality may be its own governor. Music this lyrically interesting is alas, not accessible or understood by the masses. Then again neither is most great art and that certainly does not make it less important. In fact, music this terrific stands like a monolith of stalwart sturdiness; unyielding to the pop retch that so much music has become.