Sound Advice: Plushgun.
August 9, 2008
Plushgun hail from New York, crafting a tumbledown, bambi-eyed brand of indie-pop flecked with all the same weather-beaten sincerity and nostalgic whimsy that kept granpa’s heart beating before he copped it trying to sneak into that convent across the road. Their songs are so rooted in charming wonderment that they could cause even the most dead-eyed hipster casualty to temporarily lose the will to be cynical; its the aural equivalent of the bastard lovechild of Weezer and The Postal Service being babysat by a heartbroken White Town. An album bursting at its lo-fi seams with giddy synths and frenetic guitar strummery (bedroom-brewed for that extra earnestness) is slated for January whilst a digital-only debut EP will saunter onto iTunes in the coming weeks. Like all great indie it is fundamentally driven by humourless male pity, but of a calibre that makes sulking in your bedroom worth staying in for. Jump in wih both feet and get all weepy-vulnerable to ‘Just Impolite’:
