The song begins and the drums play a thick but sparse beat. I am intrigued already, being a fan of big beat drumming with lots of room for air. The guitar strikes a few chords, a warm tremolo escapes and fades, then another and another. I feel like I am standing on a highway at that special time of twilight when the insects start their last scramble for light, and the clouds seem too heavy to float as they hang in the orange-purple sky. The future is finally now, and there is a distant hovering melancholia.
The vocals crackle like a campfire in the mind, they strain but they don’t break. There is hope. Someone is toasting a strange marshmallow in there, over the crackling flames. There is a certain sweetness of resignation, affirming that doing nothing is the best thing anyone could do. The song ends. I push the play button again without thinking.
On the second listen, the vocal harmonies jump out at me more. Shadowed figures around the campfire sing along in hushed tones. The bass thrums along beneath our feet, earthy and strong, rattling the earthworms and making the bugs dance. The sweet syncopation of arpeggios on the guitar weaves its pointed needle through the warm waves sloshing against my ear drums. There is an intimacy among strangers here, as we are all transformed into passing reflections of tail lights scattered over the streets – wetted with a rain none of us remembers. There is a synth break, the passing of a welcome stranger in the night, I didn’t notice it so much on the first listen. It slips by politely with a courteous nod and it’s on its way again, but not before we share a bite of my sandwich.
PS Perkins hails from Boise, Idaho in the United States and is a long time veteran of the underground music scene there. A multi-instrumentalist, aspiring fiction writer, prolific songwriter, and all around psychedelic warrior, Perkins has spent many years as both a street busker as well as playing bands such as Caustic Resin, Godzoundz, and The Universal.