TWIN SHADOW plays Electric Brixton after the sellout success of Dingwalls.
The name might as well be a movie title: Twin Shadow in … Forget. Only it’s not a movie; it’s a panoramic LP that introduces us to the twilight zone tale of George Lewis Jr.
The troubled son of a hairdresser and a “teacher who lived many lives” (semi-pro football, massage therapy, film maker and other things we’ll tell you about when you’re older), George was born in the Dominican Republic and spent his formative years in Florida. Not in a happening spot like Miami, though. Try an island that happened to be the winter home base of the Ringling Brothers’ Circus and palm tree-flanked old people.
If you think that’s strange? You don’t know the half of it. And neither does George, although he’s trying to remember; trying to piece the sepia-toned scenes together along with a debut album that’s all about letting go. Or is it? Like an art-house double feature that leaves you wondering what the hell just happened in the best way possible, Forget tells a spellbinding story without spelling everything out.
Forget isn’t tethered to any trends or specific genre, either. Instead, it seems almost to be hovering above the landscape of decades gone past; checking in at rest stops with it’s wheels pointed directly toward the future. So don’t be surprised to hear things abruptly shift from synth-swept soundscapes (“I Can’t Wait,” “Castles In the Snow”) to glimmers of gossamer dance music (“For Now,” “Shooting Holes At the Moon”) or full-on power balladry (“Slow”).
And who is that sitting next to George’s director’s chair? Chris Taylor of Grizzly Bear in the role of producer, working closely with Twin Shadow, fine-tuning Forget’s special effects while maintaining the memory-wracked mood that George spent months perfecting in his Brooklyn apartment. Brooklyn based label Terrible Records will be taking Twin Shadow’s Forget on as their very first LP release.
“It’s bedroom recorded music, but it’s been done with the same attention as many classic B-movies,” he says. “It’s not like a slapdash home video, though; it’s someone operating with very little at 100-percent of their ability.”
In other words, Forget is like The Seventh Seal filtered through the drive-in feel of Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!. Meaning: lots of tight shots, careful lighting, and a lingering sense that something’s not quite right—a film adaptation of George’s life that’s essentially a 40-minute waking dream.
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