((Dunes)) Band Profile and Upcoming New York City Concerts - Oh My Rockness

Raul Perez
Dunes are a new band from a couple of longtime LA punkers; Kate Hall of Mika Miko and Stephanie Chan of Finally Punk. This new thing Dunes is doing is full of sky and space and dreams and, well, lo-fi punk too. But this is bigger than that.

When I listen to Dunes, I get a strange feeling, no, an exciting URGE. Should I tell you my urge? No? Ok, I will anyway. When I listen to Dunes I wish to immediately drop out from these concrete gum-grimed streets and find the easiest mass-transit way to the nearest open field. And should I ever find this field from a train route or a bus route, I'd know just what to do when I got there.

I'd sit back on a small plot of lush grass, preferably in a spot directly below an old oak tree (Maple would do just fine, too). And on my little plot of lushness, I'll attach wires to my ears, and out of those wires will come the music of Dunes. And only when fully accompanied by these dream tones, will I lie back and turn my eyes to the sky.

I'll glance up at the mighty blue, but my focus will forever be on the white. I'll trek the movements of these gentle white clouds, as they morph from wispy to powdery to something strong and cumulous. And all these morphing and changing clouds would ultimately converge together, directly below the sun and above my Oak tree (or Maple). And out of this newly formed alliance of huge whiteness, cities of condensation would slowly begin to take shape, breezily breaking apart from its center to create new forms, forms resembling tall skyscrapers and soiled roads and claustrophobic gridlock.

And as I gaze at the temporary urban maze made by a cloud that shifts and redefines and reinvents a new city with every slight breeze, I think I see something sublime. But it doesn't last long; the breeze turns steady and stronger and the new cloud city pulls away from each other, buildings and roads separating and dissolving into weak streams of low flying solitary mist. Gone.

Yet throughout this witnessed spectacle, I am removed from the calm to chaos to calm again. I'm removed because I am down here on a lush plot of grass under an old oak tree (or Maple) listening to dream-y lo-fi anti-intensity of Dunes... when I really should be at work.
Published March 12, 2010



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