Sure to have you humming and dancing like the environmentally conscious, in touch with your inner feelings, hemp wearing hippie that you are. On the inside, at least. Beneath the burrito and the leather jacket and the knee-jerk cynicism. Continue reading
January is Boston’s most discouraging month. Untrimmed Christmas trees lie strewn on the sidewalks like so much discarded wrapping paper. The snow darkens from white to brown, the city’s own ambiguously-stained linoleum.
Then, into this dreary post-holiday reverie skips Boston’s Celtic Music Fest, like a manic little parka-clad leprechaun. (I tried to find a gif of this but it seems there isn’t one, weirdly.) Continue reading
Abbie Barrett channels that sonic chip-on-your-shoulder beautifully, all while delivering a vocal performance that’d stand up against Jefferson Airplane’s priestess of the high chords, on the second volume of her triad (duh) of EPs, The Triples. Continue reading