Behind the photogenic fashioning, the lyrics that makes your heart go wah, and the chills-and-schwing performance, is a lot of thought. Two minutes into my twenty and I’m convinced of his genius. It’s bell hooks and theories of performativity and band references I just nod along to. (Someone give this kid a MacArthur already.) You don’t want to listen to me. It’s just him.
Join the Secret City mailing list