“O Holy Break Of Day”

We’ve been lifting this weekend. And packing (not the LA South Central kind), loading, driving, unloading, lifting some more, scrubbing, waxing, buffing, spackling, slapping, teasing, singing off-key, and ultimately repeating variations of this process for the past 48 hours. Thing is, we’re more idea-men. We’re simply not built for physical labour shit, as well as prison and/or military service. Mumma and Pappa Killing Moon taught us to exercise our brains on the reg, and so sadly exercise of the muscular-regions (or lack thereof) took place under happenstance and secondary school PE lessons, during which somehow we actually seemed to do rather well in numerous forms of endurance training (e.g. the “Bleep” test) that were focused on one task, rather than full-on sporting activities whereby we would be required to both move and think at the same time. Back to the point, the repetitious labouring undertook by yours truly (not that we’re whining, we were happy to do it) this sunny/rainy weekend conjured up actual dream-time images of us in black’n’white-striped prison scrubs, workin’ on the railroad, or more succintly described as a Chain Gang. The same imagery is conjured up upon pressing play to O Holy Break Of Day from brilliant new songsmiths Waters, who is in fact one Van Pierszalowski, formerly of Port O’Brien fame. Phsyically unable to shirk comparisons to his former outfit as we are to lift anything weighing more than a three-piece tea set, this can only be a positive as it displays Van’s fantastic penmanship. O Holy Break… encapsulates Southern rock in it’s purest form, and may well attract comparisons to Kyla La Grange‘s Been Better, a smidgen of The Sleepy Jackson‘s vocal stylings, as well as seizing the whole essence of Thrice‘s Come All You Weary. Sit back in your rocking chair, press play, and don’t think about anything too heavy.

WatersO Holy Break Of Day

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