After two and a half years of work on sweaty songs played in a basement practice space in the bowels of Magnetic Field, Brooklyn, NY.... Lungs of a Giant is damn ecstatic about Headfirst Handshakes, wherein the band develops it's unique sound with the help of higher tech computers, musical saws, more alcoholic lemonade, hoarse cheers, handclaps, one Jeremy Scott (of Civil Defense Studios) and more microphones than there are iPods on the L train. Whereas before LOAG recorded songs and called that rough sound 'homegrown artistic atmosphere', now our songs shine out, proud and ringtone ready. Here's a drunken sprawl of a song lurching out of the loo toward the sing-along in the back; there's a song about The Man wielding a frying pan on the face of our beloved narrator; here's a sea shanty investigating the breathing of a dead starfish; there's an old ditty (favorite of the heaviest of country metalheads) about groceries bags dancing like a ballroom; and a snappy number about grass between ones toes. A party for your ears. Think 44 x rock + (country twang / 2) + (psychedelic - boring solipsism) x fun pop fuzz fun = Headfirst Handshakes. Dusky vocal harmonies hollow out the stereo forests for spooks. Drumbeats like crosshairs. Organs, horns, and pianos slide and skedaddle along cobblestone melodies. Guitar and bass work the body while lighting your eyebrows deliciously on fire. Man, these songs even rock the boat in mp3 versions.... Ah, hell. Words fail. LOAG prevails.
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