There was this one night we spent with Psychic Twin. We were in the middle of nowhere, next to a haunted house - like a real fucking haunted house, the kind that you can't begin to make up the eeriness of - and we were sure that there was no better place to be that night than that place, real fucking haunted house or no. A muddy, one-lane road led us back into the woods, protected and held in by all of this tall and scraggly timber, some of which had been severed and decapitated from trunks and thrown onto a bonfire pile for later in the evening. It had the makings of a night that could see the bottom fall out or the roof rip right off of it. It all felt primed for something, anything that we were never going to see coming.
Erin Fein and Brett Sanderson, the two founding members of the group - now joined in a trio by Jonny Sommer, called ahead and asked if any provisions were needed from the grocery store in town. Of course, we needed tons of beer, so they picked up tons of beer and hauled it in their trunk to our spot in the middle of nowhere, right next to the old barn. Hands broke the glue sealing the case shut and then they started dipping in for one after another.
The night went on like that - the saunter back over to the open truck filled with happiness - and a hand instinctively rummaging for the new depth of the closest can within reach. It all had that glorious epic quality associated with. Psychic Twin played extremely late that night, but no one cared about the time. They didn't care that we'd caved in the wooden barn floor or that they were going to have to sleep in their cars that night because they couldn't possibly make it home. They cared about getting over to slip a hand in for one more less-than-cold drink, as if the elixir could be mixed more potently.
Psychic Twin songs are built around these kind of nights. They encourage them too. They are mostly these tumultuous personal thoughts and mind games that get the treatment that we all give ourselves when we have options for how we are going to deal with them and spend our time. We could worry about all the narcissistic issues that we're going to have no matter what, or we could temporarily bottle them and head out to the woods with a trunk full of beer, a full moon and a bunch of people -- to stifle all of it for a few hours. We could think about the people we want and make it all burn, or we could let it go for a while and just get lost in the beats, in the trees and the darkness. Hearts are sublime, though cunning as hell and it's what Psychic Twin reminds us with these sexy slices of synth beauty that's only melancholic when there are no more beers to pull from the trunk.