The Maier sisters played like only sisters could. Julie and Erica's eyes never met; it was their shoulders that maintained steady eye contact. Only Erica said a word, and it was to thank the crowd; it was their wandering fingers that were somehow still in dialogue.
Their bass and guitar necks bobbed up and down in alternating synchrony as their bodies perfectly framed Lenore, their third sister on drums. And with reverb and Erica's well-loved whammy bar, they bow-wow-ed to the beach after dark. Landlock be damned: this is Saskatchewan surf rock. Grasses have their own currents, their own waves to ride.
And though one might wonder (jokingly) if these three have ever even seen a coastline, this band have had three lifetimes to harness a power. A power that means that, well, they can conjure whatever they harmonize. "It's not too far away," they insist on "Makeout at the Drive-in." Maybe nothing is too far for three-sister magic.
Their bass and guitar necks bobbed up and down in alternating synchrony as their bodies perfectly framed Lenore, their third sister on drums. And with reverb and Erica's well-loved whammy bar, they bow-wow-ed to the beach after dark. Landlock be damned: this is Saskatchewan surf rock. Grasses have their own currents, their own waves to ride.
And though one might wonder (jokingly) if these three have ever even seen a coastline, this band have had three lifetimes to harness a power. A power that means that, well, they can conjure whatever they harmonize. "It's not too far away," they insist on "Makeout at the Drive-in." Maybe nothing is too far for three-sister magic.