S.O.L.O

At the core of these songs, music box melodies tinkle out like slow, patient drops of water; '60s ballroom waltzes are measured out on weightless strings; echoes repeat through the fog like persistent memories; gurgling voices, when you finally recognize them, slip further into a murky haze of green-gray waters. S.O.L.O.'s airy electronica is the sound of dreams being manipulated by machines, of days when your thoughts pass before you recognize them, of bits of songs playing over and over in your head, although you can't quite remember when you heard them or why they come back to you so clearly.