1. |
Lucky Egg
02:02
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There is no rain today, the sun is out to stay. I am feeling fine because I'm the lucky egg. I won't play no lottery because all these lucky things are bound to conclude, and I can't press my luck with you. This too shall pass, or so the story goes. The feeling is through my fingertips, through my toes to my nose. For now, I've got all I need. No negativity, since you're here I can see the Lucky Egg is me.
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2. |
Red Motorcycle
03:19
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Maybe I should be different. Maybe I should be careless in a hopeful way.
Closed to the world in a blanket, but now I'm begging for a colder day. Maybe I should open. Maybe I should go searching in the fray on a red motorcycle. The color and noise will have much to say. You told me what I should be doing. Was that advice or your troubled heart? You were scared to get to know me leaving me for when I work for you.
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3. |
Under Punished
02:13
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Open season declaration proving lack of virtuosity. Where's the work-ethic? It's all been left behind. Message lost, rock is dead and gone. Knowing the job is drowned by working part-time. I am lost, rock is dead and gone. Know all the needs. Want takes priority. It's a selfish sad crime inexplicably under punished. Expectation, anticipation wait I'm coming.
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The Pinheads Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
The Pinheads is a rock and roll duo from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania featuring guitarist/songwriter Michael Praskovich and drummer/producer Andrew Henry.
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Sweetly strange indie rock with a dreamy vibe and skittering rhythms sounds like it was made by angels.
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Among Us All
by Laura Palmer's DEATH PARADE
Spooky and sophisticated dream pop from the Pacific Northwest sounds like the Cranberries mixed with Mazzy Star.
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Gnarly punk rock from the Philadelphia duo is unhinged in the best way, an in-the-red sonic assault a la Motorhead/Stooges.
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Portland shoegaze that plays, as the best representatives of the genre do, with huge, hollow atmosphere against intimate observations.
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Immersion Chamber
by Lunch Money Life
The London band gazes upon the apocalypse with awe rather than dread.
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What Are We Really Even Doing?
by Francie Moon
A bonafide New Jersey garage rock ripper from Francie Moon plunges fearlessly into the murky depths of psychedelia and blues.
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IT WAS WORTH IT TO LOVE, though it hurt so bad
by Death Parade
Don't be misled by the sinister moniker: this Portland outfit specialize in lush, mournful indie rock with a psychedelic shimmer.
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