The music is both soothing and sinister like Grandpa sitting by your bed and spinning old war stories.
This Bay Area bedroom-gothic outfit dims the lights, tucks you in, and whispers a lullaby that might put you to sleep if it weren’t for the booze on their breath and the monsters under the bed. Ballads and laments, creaks and moans, Tom Waits and Sparklehorse, that’s the stuff that Winfred E. Eye’s nocturnal ruminations are made of. On their latest long-player, Til I Prune, haggard howls and dark humor conspire with acoustic guitars and shuffled beats on songs like “Two Baby Moths” and the title track. The music is both soothing and sinister like Grandpa sitting by your bed and spinning old war stories. Just please tell Gramps to stop hitting the bottle and inviting his freaky folk friends over to crash on the floor. They keep giving me the creeps and I’m already 30 and still scared of the dark.