Some records just sound like a convertible at golden hour, and this band built an entire catalog out of that one feeling. Sun-warmed synth-pop with a disco spine, engineered so precisely for movement that standing still starts to feel like a personal failing.
The Australian outfit behind Sometimes and Holidays is a different proposition live than on record. The studio gloss comes off, an actual band pushes every song harder than the version in your headphones, and the warehouse room over on Naud Street suits them for it: concrete, height, and enough space for a floor to bounce instead of shuffle. This is the antidote to a season of dark rooms and brooding sets. All lift, all shimmer, hands up through the entire back half.
Downtown Los Angeles, doors in the evening. Round up the people who treat a dance floor as the entire reason to leave the house.
Some records just sound like a convertible at golden hour, and this band built an entire catalog out of that one feeling. Sun-warmed synth-pop with a disco spine, engineered so precisely for movement that standing still starts to feel like a personal failing.
The Australian outfit behind Sometimes and Holidays is a different proposition live than on record. The studio gloss comes off, an actual band pushes every song harder than the version in your headphones, and the warehouse room over on Naud Street suits them for it: concrete, height, and enough space for a floor to bounce instead of shuffle. This is the antidote to a season of dark rooms and brooding sets. All lift, all shimmer, hands up through the entire back half.
Downtown Los Angeles, doors in the evening. Round up the people who treat a dance floor as the entire reason to leave the house.
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Some records just sound like a convertible at golden hour, and this band built an entire catalog out of that one feeling. Sun-warmed synth-pop with a disco spine, engineered so precisely for movement that standing still starts to feel like a personal failing.
The Australian outfit behind Sometimes and Holidays is a different proposition live than on record. The studio gloss comes off, an actual band pushes every song harder than the version in your headphones, and the warehouse room over on Naud Street suits them for it: concrete, height, and enough space for a floor to bounce instead of shuffle. This is the antidote to a season of dark rooms and brooding sets. All lift, all shimmer, hands up through the entire back half.
Downtown Los Angeles, doors in the evening. Round up the people who treat a dance floor as the entire reason to leave the house.