Birdcloud rained its Southern, sexy, warped and wonderful melodies down on my ears and into my beer glass last night.

“Honey, go ask the bartender to put my whisky in the microwave,” Mackenzie requested of the girl standing next to me. She was singing with a sore throat but doing just fine on stage with her bandmate, Jasmin. Gazing at each other over microphones crossed like the blue field of stars on a Confederate Flag, the girls sang about the men they fancied, dogs they buried and bein’ followed by cops even though they ain’t done nothin’ wrong that day.

Being a southern friend transplant settled down in Seattle, I felt just right last night, even though I never set foot in their home town. Still, a small part Seattle was warshed over with sounds that make you wanna go down to the historical Mississippi. There wasn’t a person in the room who wasn’t dancing, clapping or singing along with the band.

My dreams were seeded with Birdcloud song all night long and I woke up singin’ their tunes this morning. I can’t think of a better way to have spent a Sunday evening at the Lo-Fi than with those two ladies.

Words: John Kelley • Graphic: Jesse Codling • FYM THEY LIVE!


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