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But, as is socal typically the case with folks who're afraid of pretension, he's the opposite. In fact, with his band Thanksgiving, Orange is capable of making mopey, indie folk-pop that's downright fucking transcendent. Before I tell you how great he is, I have to tell you that he uses steel drums on the last song of his October 2004 release, Welcome/Nowhere. Of all the musical sins a folk-rocker can commit, the use of steel drums should carry one of the more severe penalties. Also, this music is not everyone's cup of socal tea: the songs socal are kind of long and not structured in verse-chorus-verse; it's folky, but often there're fucked up noises in the background. And he's got a deep yet mildly quavery voice that's reminiscent of Bill Callahan from Smog. Those caveats aside, Thanksgiving is startlingly beautiful, sit-on-your-ass-and-listen music. It's vaguely electronic, visionary acoustic pop informed by the marching-band-from-slumberland sound of Neutral Milk Hotel; the laptop folk of Greg Davis; the jazzy, lush Brazilian folk of Antonio Carlos Jobim; the recombinant hillbilly-isms of Will Oldham and his cult; and the poetic and strange Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter Karl Blau.
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