Get ready to sachet, shante (“Shante shante shante!”) with Flashion Forward, a new UI feature in which we endeavor to explore the ever-expanding universe of sonic style. Each week, we’ll pluck a recently added interview from our warehouse of current clips and try to read between the artist’s sartorial lines. Let’s work it, shall we?
This week we’re drooling over, I mean, er, taking a scholarly look at Elvis Perkins in Dearland, the Wurlitzer-happy fetching foursome. They’re a band that embodies all that is right, cute and admirable about the indie rock scene with a hefty enough dollop of sex appeal to avoid being just another gaggle of twee, long-haired men-children overly in touch with their emotions.
Elvis himself springs directly from the loins of Anthony “I wouldn’t harm a fly” Psycho Perkins and generally hails from a long line of lovably zany wackadoos (including the fashion designer Elsa Schiaparelli and the Theosophist and psychic medium Count Wilhelm de Wendt de Kerlor), so chichi snazziness naturally runs in his veins.
Also, his name is Elvis.
His band of scruffily polished cohorts are equally endearing, with their dapper oh-I-totally-just-rolled-outta-bed-into-this-impossibly-boho-chic-outfit-that-signals comfort-and-a-hearty-rejection-of-the-man,. There are also knit-caps, tinted sunglasses and an ecru scarf tied in a complicated knot, all in one finger-lickin’ package.
But alas! Their footloose fancy-free approach to life was temporarily stymied on tour recently in Spain. In this clip, the band explains how lost gear, rusted guitar strings and a huge turnout almost rocked their gently swaying boat–but a sunset saved the day. Aw!
TOPICS: Flashion Forward, Queequeg