Sound Rabbit

This article originally appeared Dayton City Paper

In a world of Music that seems to fit everything into cookie cutter genres Sound Rabbit isn’t afraid to think outside the box. Not only do they step outside that rock box, Sound Rabbit proceeds to dabble around with jazz, folk, and pop as well as a wide variety of other musical classifications. Synth meets steady guitar reminiscent of early Weezer on tracks like “Diminished Returns”. The very next track on Tree Trunk Airplanes, “Years Ago”, features a smooth strumming a tune more akin to Elliot Smith, while the track after that bubbles a bit like pop. All of this leads to some well varied albums which won’t wear out even after a dozen listens. Amongst my group of friends we have a term for bands who lack variety; same-y, and Sound Rabbit is anything but same-y.

Continue Reading →

Yellow Springs Art Stroll

This article originally appeared in Dayton City Paper

There is a place where talented artists live within a close proximity to one another. This small spot on the map has grown into an amazing community where one can feed off other’s creative energy and people genuinely support each other’s projects. This is a free place where something ordinary and plain would stand out against the blossoms of creativity and playful invention.

On any typical day you may walk through Yellow Springs and find variety of exceptional artworks for sale by local vendors. You may also notice the time restraint due to limited hours of these stores. Well for Yellow Springs Art Stoll you will not only find extra special artwork, some of which is made just for the occasion, but these stores will be open until 9:00p.m. providing more time to shop.

Continue Reading →

What happened to the Squid kids?

We sit in this living room surrounded by boxes stacked high and towering all around us. Some are leaning against the wall. Others I observe impressively defying gravity on their own accord. Some of these boxes are staked low in a manner suitable for furniture replacement.

He sits on a well cushioned very old couch. It’s the sort you can sink into and don’t mind the stains. I have a stiff kitchen chair pulled up and a clipboard in hand. I lean my arm on one of these boxes and glance at the writing in sharpie marker across the cardboard. Orange Milk records. Inside are brand new CDs, and records. They are freshly printed carrying that new factory plastic scent.

Continue Reading →