Subjected to the light of day, Sarah Palin doesn't look like a maverick at all.
Ronald Taylor is one of perhaps hundreds of innocent people Harris County has put in prison.
Sloppy U.S. government paperwork is putting the lives of asylum seekers at risk.
The group's debut CD delivers on that intriguing pedigree. Red State's darkly beautiful vignettes reference the suffocation and quiet desperation of American hinterland existence. Images of suburban ennui haunt the lyrics, beginning with "Fargo," which features a litany of recreational boredom-relievers recited over shimmering keyboards. Epic droner "White Like Heaven" offers Velvet Underground-ish psychedelia while Anderson sings about such mundane moments as "a man outside walking his dog, mowing his lawn." On "Fake July," Buchla mutters that "you can smell desperation like a huge sick bird/ promise of salvation/ hovering overhead." Sonically, the compositions are unsettlingly intimate and blissfully melodic. With elements of freak folk, glitchy noise, chamber strings, and more, Red State is a powerfully ominous yet lovely place worthy of return visits. Mike Rowell