I’m sure these two are very nice people, but no.
Maybe that bad indie rock press photo took a very long time to stage, and maybe it was effortlessly retouched digitally. For me, either way is a waste of time. So, no. No thanks on the photo. And no thanks on everything else:
On their debut album, Native Air, and in front of audiences, the Greensboro, N.C., couple set out to perform their intimacy and invite listeners into the cocooned imaginative space they've chosen to share with each other. More interested in the sensuous potential of performance than one might expect a folk act to be, they'd erect a shredded fabric backdrop behind them, burn essential oils (where venues would allow it), hand out homemade hymnals of their lyrics and press their reedy voices together. Sonically, though, their impressionistic, narrative folk was deliberately sparse; that way, they reasoned, harried listeners would find room to breathe.
The Goans spend the final minute and a half of Lowland Hum repeating, "I keep looking at my cell phone / Can't stop looking at my cell phone," as they bend and twist their voices into different harmonic intervals, tones and inflections.
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