Watch It Happen


Rarely do I receive an album for review that I go out and recommend to others. This, of course, is one of those magical albums that come along every now and again to remind me why I care to listen. Do you want history? Too bad. Once there was a band called the Azusa Plane. Jason DiEmilio made hours and hours of noise with his guitar and people, to his surprise, followed his example. Secretly though, he admired a type of pop music with its own self-sustaining mythology. He longed to release an album by such a person as would sing with alternately grave seriousness and indifferent detachment. He wished to hear guitars squealing in the distance and guitars churning from within his belly. He needed to hear words that defied suppression by the volition of their elemental cleverness. He required a voice to lift him that he could be certain was holding no other audience. He was willing to spin off a record label from his own Colorful Clouds for Acoustics to commit to the release schedule of the one person he probably least expected. His drummer.

Victoria Records, 273 Cambridge Rd, Clifton Heights, PA 19108

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