We all have that band. Today, I talk about something by Dear Criminals.
You know that band. The band you rely on for churning good album after good album, the one who’ll never disappoint. The band whose albums you sometimes have looping in the background, the one whose songs you will never click ‘skip’ on. The band whose live videos you go back to even though the filmed quality isn’t good because you just want to be taken back. The band you’ve seen enough times that they appear in your head when you play a song of theirs. The song is a new one you’ve never seen them perform but you see their silhouettes. You have a burning image of the way Frannie Holder hunches over her synths, lifting her face to meet the eyes of Charles Savoie when they sing one after the other. You remember Savoie does this thing where he sends one side of his chin skywards and holds a note. Of course, you don’t forget Legault in between the two, quarterbacking on guitar and more synths. You remember the love in between them, for their manager, for the people who bought you your tickets. The way they bow and in thanks, hand over heart. You know that band.
Joel Mak 