Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Sound engineering by Mike Gentry
There is a fear - not the lone fear, but one of a few standing fears - on Twin Sister's song "Ginger," where lead singer Andrea Estella bemoans this worry, "I hope we don't crash under dim streetlights," making it feel, at the end, as if we were being washed off our feet by a strong tide, not a darkened strip of pavement. Of course, with one listen to "Vampires With Dreaming Kids" or "Color Your Life" - the band's two debut EPs that are available free from its website - under dim streetlights seems like the only place that it would ever choose or hope to crash. Estella and her Long Island-based band have a way of making their motions and emotions feel as if they are being spun and kneaded in half-time, giving them an aged and alluring luster. They feel as if they're kicking through your hair like a steady, but hardly noticeable wind, wearing on you as you move indoors, like a cologne of the outside, something that birds would breaks their necks crashing into pane-glass windows trying to get at, to be around. Twin Sister makes us feel, in no way, as if we're stuck in a moment, but actually collaborating with a moment, seeing it slowed down and better able to grab, like a fat fish in shallow waters. This idea of potentially crashing under dim streetlights is an interesting concern, and almost a proposition, as if the fear was secretly a dare - this ghostly premonition that could be willed into an outcome that, if survived, would be something to be beautifully told in poetic verse, almost exactly as is already being done on this particular song. So, that's where we stand. We're thrown into this churning and yearning sense of wonderment of real and daydreamed scenarios that unfold like spring buds, opening sheepishly, patiently peeling back until everything is out in the open. The music moves us in multiple ways, giving us many different embraces and coos along the trail and Estella is a captivating and engaging front woman. She prowls a stage seductively and treats her lyrics in a similar way - prowling after them, if you will - and handing them over with hot breath and all of the right drops of warmth and sugar. On "I Want A House," she sings, "I want a house/Built of old wood/You could paint it any color you like/Just as long as I can live with you," and what could be read as an easy line of basic human wanting is actually turned into a husky and complex piece of substantial depth. It reaches for us as we reach to touch it and it's at that intersection where the exchange is made and we're not just listening anymore, we're feeling as we should be feeling, as the band would like us to be feeling. We're companions on this song, in the way the words find us and in the way that we're willing to be engaged. Be ready for this to happen a lot with these five.