& The Amber Hour
A songwriter pens his latest in a battered notebook. It’s a love song for his siren; he’s found his muse. Sean Hamilton and the Amber Hour feel like George and Tammy, or maybe Mick and Marianne, an incandescent love that lights dive bars everywhere: Mimi’s Neon Red. Perfect harmonies elevate effortlessly cool rock and roll, all Tom Petty craft and no petty squabbles here, no sir. In for this year: releasing music with your best friend, legit enjoying kitsch, writing hooks for the sake of a good hook. Out: cynicism, irony, and anything that gets in the way of feeling your feelings.
Two rhinestone punks on parade, flashing their perfect aesthetics and dazzling earworms. They can perform as a duo with a beat up acoustic guitar, or they go into full flight with their backing band of buds. She’s his muse, he’s her three chords and earnest truths.
A goofy one liner. It’s hot in Montreal during the short summer nights and la belle provence is sticky with punch-drunk love, the kind so saccharine sweet it announces itself with a stupefied grin plastered on its face and a lopsided twirl into the room. Leather jackets, a rippling fringe and tattoos. Millennial love is wholesome af, shared memes and the heat death of the planet, but first, let’s split an ice cream cone to cool down, to come down. Bikes, beers, babes.
Rock and roll for modern times, for modern love. We may never know what it do, but “It Did” effervesces and spills over in glee like a warm tallboy and what it do should keep going, spinning and spinning until the track is worn down.