The layers are beginning to collapse into place. The guitars wiry, the vocals drifting in from down the hall. Sometimes it skews to the dreamy end of melodic, like in the quietly nervous Waste, which itself even outbreaks into an internalised yell. They seem to really let themselves go only occasionally – then contradict that as Time is an utterly assured thing that engages while simultaneously holding you (and the object of affection) just out of reach. Young and intriguing. And potentially very fine.
WIN Tickets To Macy Gray's 'The Encore' Tour
