Orange (LP)

Like a lightning strike that travels through time - is there a word for that? - White Fence are all of a sudden cracking in the hear-view mirror again. Orange hits like, visceral. White hot and cold, a zombie Rhinestone Dwight Twilley Cowboy - but with each Rickenbackin' chime, the ticking of the clock jingle-jangles White Fence in fresh time. Ruthless!

Guitars sound and like a shower spray forth. Resolutely picked. Cold and soothing. Shellodic (the melody in a shell, duh!). Swivelin' thru the jagged, jittery pop sounds of the 60s-00000s, the sharped focus of Orange's rock sonics gives Tim Presley exactly what he needed the most: open space to sing into, and songs to sing. The rest is White Fence magik at its most dark, as Tim's restless free-allusivation trippifyingly transforms the cramped confines of heart wracked self-excoriation right before our eyes and ears! In pop songs.