t was good and hot on this June 3 afternoon when Yeasayer stopped by our studio for this very session. They had no trouble getting here promptly having mildly irritated their manager and booking agent by walking out on a show the night before because it was a **** situation. The bartenders didn’t realize there was even a show that night and if they played, they would be playing to a room of zero. They decided to not even load in, cut their losses and come to us – an activity they wanted to do more anyway. Everyone won except for that one poor city unwitting of the scheduled show, featuring this Brooklyn band that would have shook it awake and rattled its fillings. They were politely sitting on the outdoor patio of the pizza parlor where we’ve begun eating one out of every three meals. The patio is really just a fancy way of describing the sidewalk outfitted with cheap, white plastic lawn furniture and umbrellas, enough to scare up some walk-ins on gorgeous days for mid-afternoon brewskis. The sampler of completed songs that we’d heard prior to them arriving doesn’t do them justice as they need to be Experienced with a capital E. They need a marinating, a way to form fit to whatever you’re wearing for clothing and for deodorant. They can coat you with their bizarre passions of clanging and snips and snaps all over the place that weld together huge worldly ideas that couldn’t have come from anywhere but a human heart. Then again, it’s not human, but the finest conveyance of the sick and confusing world that awaits outside all of our windows. It’s a connection to all of the fires and collisions. We bonded over “Entourage” when the smoke cleared. – Sean Moeller