Ghost Bees
In which I repress my love of ankles
There was a time where it was considered saucy for a woman to show her ankles in public. Today, it’s hard to imagine anyone (outside of a fetish) finding ankles sexually arousing, but I wonder: how would modern culture been affected had ankles maintained their explicit nature?
Well, just off the top of my head, Sir Mix-A-Lot would have sang Baby Got Foot, there would be a hell of a lot less plastic surgeons, and Crocs would be perceived as smutty clothing contributing to the degeneration of youth. Just off the top of my head.
And while Ghost Bees may feel like this kind of throwback, there are way too many elements to book them as simple era-spanning folk musicians. Their ballads are sincere as they are dark, real as they are imaginative, and spooky as they are dreamy, as guitar, mandolin, violin and cello resonate eerily from bleak gloaming fantasies. The twin sisters from Halifax seem to share the same brain as their voices harmonize into a single, otherworldly entity, which seems out of place when disjoined from its counterpart. Telling stories of the mundane turned fantastical, of somber destinies, and of the terrors of dictatorship, there is nothing by-the-book in what Ghost Bees does.
(I bet their ankles are hot.)
MP3: Ghost Bees - Vampires Of The West Coast
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