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Depths of Hell by Pink Oranges 47

Both eerie and poppy, Pink Oranges 47 is cool, outlawish indie rock. An anonymous project without biographical photo or name credits, all we know about Pink Oranges 47 is the sounds are produced in Fredericton, New Brunswick.

Throughout the record, sparse daubs of guitar yield to boom-baps, samples shifted and warped, purring and oscillating drones. The vocals, sometimes hushed, are commanding and burly. Gregorian-esque oh's harmonize in the background. There's a refrain about "the snake man lookin' down on Satan" and grinning faces watching you at night. Opener "Low" stands out, kinda Western sounding, trudging along, really catchy.

Depths of Hell is experimental but avoids being abrasive or alienating. The abstract textures are inviting, almost soothing, like a radiator's plinks at night. Distortion frosts the instruments and vocals. Pace changes often, creating a sense of the unexpected, but the mood stays the same: dark, foreboding, and surreal. Released March 18th, 2019. Listen below.

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Welcome

If I was good at baseball, I'd be down in the Florida minor leagues talking arm slots, traveling off to needs-work fall leagues, an eye to the international youth with wild sliders and blazing fastballs.

But I kept striking out through Little League, so I bought a Fender Squire at age 12, took music theory classes, and supplemented a college education with creative writing poetry classes.

As an independent musician, I grew deterred by the lack of local and low-profile music critics. Now, it’s my mission to scout and highlight musicians unheard and present my voice as one of the many scaffolds that musicians might use to make their art grow.

Cycle of disillusionment and inspiration

I dislike sites that simply stop posting without explanation. Brotherly Fuzz was a fun experiment. I have lost steam. A week went by without a post, now six weeks. Not abnormal, of course, for amateur bloggers to fizzle quickly. Simultaneously, I am caught in a depressed funk, where it becomes hard to conjure words, think thoughts, move limbs.

I may return here, place less pressure on frequent updates. Hell, maybe even soon, since I have trouble predicting my actions from hour to hour, even. When the negativity fades and nostalgia remains, perhaps I'll return. Perhaps this project will restart perpetually in a cycle of disillusionment and inspiration.

Ultimately, I have little faith in music blogs, which are knowingly endangered. I feel like I'm doing bands a disservice; I only provide them with one person's feedback, I am unable to find them a wider audience. Perhaps time will bring more listeners, but I'm doubtful. Moreover, it feels weird linking people to my analys…