Buried under a sea of tinny sheen, this
psych-minded Virginian belts out treble-heavy melodies that might
have been recorded through a hole in the bathroom door of a venue at
some obscuro late-60s acid-pop show. The Sleepwalker EP
repeatedly exploits a collision between sugary folk-pop and
off-kilter, psychedelic garage, as is best witnessed on the glorious
title track. "Sleepwalker" rings forth with resplendent guitar
chords and a winsome vocal melody, though the lyrics themselves are
vividly dark; it's a delightful juxtaposition that is commonly
encountered on this record – that is, when the words are
intelligible. Elsewhere, surf-inflected "Canaries" reeks of a
fragrant Brian Jonestown Massacre influence, and "Armory,"
which would fit in on an über-limited
sixties psych-folk comp, stomps through a glorious romp which builds
to a triumphant melodic turn. Interestingly, the last two tracks
diverge stylistically from the rest, be it on the warped,
reverberating blues of "Runaway" or the Shadows-esque roll of
"Sleepwalker Pt. 2." Yet -- perhaps
due to the tinny sound, or the excess of
reverb -- this entire record somehow fits
together delightfully as a unit. And it's a
memorable, enrapturing one at that.