The stories May McDonough and Company tell in their music elude to some of these whimsical tales, ever vaguely and cryptically hinting at various disasters, deaths, bastard siblings, homeless trials, and somewhat bizarre worlds of self-exploration.
May and Company's arrangements are equally as filled with whimsy and charm. Strung out with rich moods and decked with junkyard percussion, their songs instantly warp you in to a specific time and place where no corner of the room goes unpainted. Whether you're thrown back early century evenings at the birdcage theatre, lusting after a burlesque dancer, or you find yourself stumbling down an alley at midnight having just puked out a bottle of Jameson, when you listen to MMC songs you know exactly where you are, exactly how you feel, and you know they wanted it that way.
Now May plays with her ragtag band of junkyard dogs. Her band wales away at led pipes, trashcans, and overturned bicycles, as she sludges through chords and eases through chest-searing vocals that open even the most tightly crossed arms.”