RIYL: Nick Cave in a a Las Vegas dive bar, high on salt peanuts and rotting suede - and frisky.
Slim Fortune is a peyote milkshake poured from the waxy remnants of a soft-with-heat Lee Hazlewood LP all over your goddamn $1000 leopard print custom van interior. I told them so many times, not in the goddamn van but they are just animals, amiright? The best thing to do is let them be (hopefully be still) and suffer the consequences later. You can’t take these people anywhere: remember that strip club in LV? Fucking carnage, there went the advance in one night. Like a breaker, you just let it ride and pay off the staff when they sleep. You get the couple hours alone you deserve and the day starts again. Maybe this day you’ll finally make it out of town. Maybe. Fucking animals. They’ll be the death of you.
Slim Fortune is a Portland, Oregon supergroup composed of Rex Marshall (Mattress), Jay Winebrenner (31 Knots, Blesst Chest), Russell Higbee (Modest Mouse),and Maxmillan Avila (Chromatics, Get Hustle, Atriarch).
RIYL: lo-fi explorations of the inchoate void behind one’s eyeballs, imagined and real. Yeah, I am talking to YOU.
The pizza joint is hot this July night: if you listen closely you can hear the sound of sweat escaping from the arcade machines. Every glistening quarter is slick with the summer DNA of idle and bored humans, too weary of the day to do anything but escape into free air conditioning, their collective scheckels slowly escaping from rapidly emptying pockets into perpetually famished guts of arcane 8-bit beasts scattered around this place like upright visiting caskets, blinking, hissing, barking in their strange mating language, every single one searching for the right color, texture, and timbre of seduction in order to liberate the very last quarter of their prey into waiting, vertical maws. These machines now have emergent dreams - 40 years of salty genes have corroded everything. This is not a good thing. Too many memories in this place. This, however, is their soundtrack.