The music starts…
Strum, strum, strum.”
Strum, strum, strum…”
Bea: “Oh yeah, dig that Thom Yorke fella…”
Bea: “Ooh…key change!”
“Strum, strum…pick a little…”
Bea: “Who else do I like? That’s right, love Bright Eyes…”
Followed by a sonically perfect imitation of Conor Oberst with a cold and a Nu Zullun’ accent. Then it’s Elliot Smith in the blender and so on and so forth. Yeah, I’m being facetious. This is by no means bad. It was apparently recorded on a laptop in a tin shack, but that’s not a detriment. There are moments of scratchy acoustic brilliance, and he has the restraint to avoid some of the more overblown idiosyncrasies that people such as the aforementioned Mr. Oberst indulge in (and as soon as Tim writes the equivalent of ‘Lua’ he’s welcome to be as self indulgent as he wishes). But this is kind of the equivalent of when you’re at a party and a really, really overexcited guy with about thirty badges all over him comes up to you and wants to talk: and he’s all like “dude, so what music are you into? Have you heard of The Clash? They’re pretty cool.” And then he starts listing all his favourite bands, all the while bouncing gently from side to side and looking anxiously at you and you just want to grab him and say hey, just calm down, it’s gonna be alright… you’re gonna be fine.