WRUR 88.5 Different Radio

Lars Gotrich

Have you ever been in the car, scanning radio signals for signs of life, and thought about the stories behind the headlights passing on the highway? There's life in those spaces, in close quarters, alone or with friends, lovers, strangers. Then, windows down, you hear a pop song emanate from that beat-up sedan, that souped-up SUV, that pickup truck with the rusted tailgate. The song shifts the gears of your being, if only for a moment. With pop music's ability to transmute desire and despair into easily hummable enlightenment, it maybe even saves you.

Liminal space can be both a beginning and a transition — it's the threshold that floats between worlds. When you just need to drift into nothingness from the aches of daily life, that unending quality makes for good ambient music, no?

The band's name — The Dreebs — sounds like urban-dwelling forest trolls, slipping in and out of sewers and city-sanctioned parks in packs.

Violinist and vocalist Adam Markiewicz, guitarist Jordan Bernstein and drummer Shannon Sigley have all played in the equally twisted PC Worship, and were all, at some point, part of a commune-like space called Le Wallet that's fostered many musicians in the New York scene. After a few records and digital releases, Forest of a Crew mutates The Dreebs into a strange and beautiful creature.

New phases are the unseen forces of life. In persons, in movements, they are the quietly unfolding moments and soul detritus that build momentum over time, only revealed as a crescent of new being. That's the poetry of a new moon, a solar body that exists, but is invisible to the unaided eye, and only rarely illuminated by an eclipse.

Do yourself a favor: don't Google "Wand" and "Pure Romance" while at work, unless your place of business happens to be an adult toy store. Your browser history will thank you either way.

Lucky for you, you don't need to search for the Los Angeles psych-rock band's video for "Pure Romance." We're premiering it right here.

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