Stephen Mejias

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Sons & Daughters: Mirror Mirror

Mirror Mirror, the third album from Glasgow band Sons & Daughters, opens with a single note from a vintage synth. Barely audible at first, it grows and grows and rises vertically in the soundstage&#151for 15 seconds it grows: a sharp white light in an otherwise dark room&#151building tension, warning of some sort of danger, as it goes. This high-pitched note is met first by stomping feet, then by clapping hands&#151single file and far, far off, but growing in size and intensity&#151before finally being joined by the voices of Adele Bethel and Scott Paterson, singing, strangely singing, barely singing at all, more chanting, intoning, repeating, casting:

Space Made Vacant by Changes

A few days ago, I removed my Nintendo Entertainment System — the one I've owned since I was a young boy — from my Walmart television stand — the one I've owned for five years — and placed it on my Target bookcase. I then unplugged the Sony DVD player, wrapped up its wires, and placed it in my bedroom closet.

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