Rising Star 72: Not Just the Next Wave — The Wave

Every generation has its sound. Its storytellers. Its pulse.

Rising Star 72 isn't just curating the moment—it’s carving the future, one voice at a time.

There’s something electric in the air. You feel it in the first chord. In the shaky breath before a verse. In the silence between notes that says more than words ever could. That’s the magic of Rising Star 72—where music isn’t manufactured, but lived.

This isn't a stage for algorithms or polished personas. It’s for the brave. The beautifully raw. The ones who show up, scars and all, and turn their truth into something universal.

Each artist here is mid-journey. Not at the top of the mountain yet—but climbing, with purpose. Some are still finding their voice. Others are sharpening it into something sharp enough to cut through the noise. But all of them? They’re real. And that’s what makes this edition unforgettable.

From glitchy alt-pop confessions to genre-smashing sonic experiments, the lineup at Rising Star 72 resists every label. These artists aren't trying to fit in—they’re building new rooms entirely. Spaces where vulnerability is a strength, and difference is a superpower.

At its core, Rising Star 72 is a celebration of what the industry often forgets: music starts with people. With moments. With the courage to say something honest and let it echo.

This session is crafted like a mixtape from the future—intimate, chaotic, healing, and human. It’s the sound of artists stepping into themselves. And in doing so, inviting you to do the same.

So press play.

Lean in.

Let go of expectations.

Because the future isn’t something we wait for anymore.

With Rising Star 72, it’s already here—and it sounds like freedom.

Michael Paul Brennan: The Balladeer of Roads Not Taken

By 1111CR3W Editorial Team

Every artist has a turning point—a moment they keep returning to, not always with regret, but with wonder. For Michael Paul Brennan, that moment sounds like “What Could’ve Been.”

Written with the weight of hindsight and the tenderness of what-ifs, the single captures more than just a melancholic daydream—it’s a compass to his entire creative life. And like most great American stories, his begins on the road.

The Call to Create

Originally from Weymouth, Massachusetts, Brennan did what many artists dream of—he chased the muse straight to Nashville. The three years he spent there weren’t just about honing his songwriting. They were about listening—to silence, to heartbreak, to honky-tonks echoing with stories. But eventually, the road curved back to Massachusetts in 2020, grounding him with the clarity of someone who’s seen both sides: the noise of industry and the quiet of truth.

It was there—on his home soil—that Michael began sketching the emotional terrain that would become “What Could’ve Been.”

The Song That Feels Like a Letter

Recorded at Underground Recording Co. and shaped under the guidance of Mike Machaby (who also handled bass, slide guitar, mixing, and mastering), “What Could’ve Been” feels less like a song and more like an open letter—to a country, a lover, a version of self.

Through soulful vocals that never press too hard and intricate instrumentation that invites rather than demands attention, Michael crafts a space where listeners can sit with their own memories. The symbolism of “blue and red skies” echoes across the chorus like a national sigh—tapping into both personal and collective reflection.

“History repeats itself,

liberty sits on the shelf,

next to the pursuit of happiness.”

It’s political without preaching. Poetic without obscurity. And it’s precisely this balance that gives the track its staying power.

The Journey Continues

Even nine months after its release, “What Could’ve Been” hasn’t stopped resonating. It’s become a mirror for thousands in over 157 countries, reaching ears that understand that yearning is a language all its own. With upcoming performances—like the Cantab Lounge Boston MiniFest on September 26—Michael continues to turn stages into sacred spaces, reminding audiences that vulnerability is its own kind of strength.

His recent nominations—from Male Performer of the Year in 2023 to Americana Band of the Year in 2024—aren’t just accolades. They’re affirmations that emotional honesty still matters in an industry often obsessed with image. They mark a recognition that Michael Paul Brennan isn’t just a performer—he’s a chronicler of the American psyche.

More Than a Musician

But numbers and stages don’t define Michael. What defines him is the connection—the way people come up to him after shows, eyes wet, saying, “That one line? It’s my life.”

He’s shared stages with names like Priscilla Block and Mike Cooley, but you get the sense that whether he’s playing to five people in a backroom bar or hundreds at a showcase, the intention remains the same: tell the truth. Feel it deeply. And leave space for the listener to bring their own.

The Legacy of What Could’ve Been

Michael Paul Brennan is not interested in chasing trends. He’s chasing time—what it gives, what it takes, and what it leaves behind. “What Could’ve Been” isn’t just the title of a song. It’s the philosophy of an artist who understands that real music is lived, not just written.

And if this is what could’ve been—imagine what’s next.

Listen to “What Could’ve Been” on your preferred platform.

Catch Michael Paul Brennan live at Cantab Lounge Boston MiniFest on September 26.

Follow his journey not just with your ears—but with your heart.

Synthonic’s “Lampin’”: The Art of Chill, Reimagined

There’s a kind of calm that doesn’t come from silence—it comes from groove. That’s the pulse at the heart of Lampin’, the latest album from Synthonic, a Sidmouth-born artist reworking the DNA of Acid Jazz into something deeply laid-back, technically stunning, and undeniably fresh. Behind the smooth veneer lies a four-year journey of devotion, collaboration, and the need to simply be in the music.

Like the old-school slang the album borrows its name from, Lampin’ is all about chilling with purpose. But don’t mistake the vibe for simplicity. Tracks like “All Day, Every Day” and the title cut “Lampin’” aren’t just casual ear candy—they’re constructed with tight, three- and four-part horn harmonies, layered live instrumentation, and subtle production flourishes that reward deeper listening. From reversed Rhodes textures on “The Quirk” to the gentle side-chained waves of “El Paseo,” every sonic choice serves the album’s mellow but intelligent core.

The journey of Synthonic mirrors the arc of a classic Hero’s Journey. Beginning in the quiet seaside town of Sidmouth, Synthonic cut their teeth in smaller venues and intimate sessions, refining a sound rooted in the golden era of ‘90s Acid Jazz. But the call to adventure came with a desire to evolve—not just by revisiting the past, but by remixing it with modern tools and personal history. The transformation happened in a home studio, not a palace. Some songs gestated for years, others were born in the heat of recent inspiration. Yet all of them were shaped by intention and collaboration.

With a musician’s ear and a producer’s mind, Synthonic assembled a stellar cast: Vasilis Xenopoulos (tenor sax), Jack Birchwood (trumpet), Valere Speranza (bass), and Jeremy Dunning (guitar). Each brought their own flavor to the table—seasoned voices weaving into a fabric that’s lush, dynamic, and deeply human. The horn work doesn’t just elevate; it moves. It breathes.

And it’s not just studio polish. “Synthonic Live” has already proven its muscle onstage, notably opening for UK soul-pop icon Gabrielle at the Sidmouth International Jazz & Blues Festival. Another recent highlight: a performance at Southampton Modern Jazz Club, cementing the artist’s presence in the live scene. It’s a fitting loop—hometown beginnings, local triumph, and now a rising wave that feels ready to hit much bigger shores.

Influenced by the likes of Jamiroquai, Stevie Wonder, Incognito, and Anomalie, Synthonic’s sound is undeniably referential. But what makes Lampin’ special isn’t imitation—it’s translation. It takes the grooves we thought we knew and filters them through a lens of technical rigor, personal growth, and a need for connection in a hyper-speed world.

At its heart, Lampin’ isn’t about escapism. It’s about embracing the moment. Chilling not as a luxury, but as a statement. Letting the horns speak when words won’t do. Letting the bassline carry the story. And letting go—track by track.

Album Highlights

🎷 “All Day, Every Day” – Tight horn harmonies and a deceptively complex arrangement that anchors the album’s aesthetic.

🎹 “Lampin’” – The mission statement in musical form. Funky, flowing, and effortlessly cool.

🌀 “The Quirk” – Features reversed Rhodes and textural experimentation.

🌴 “El Paseo” – Chillwave jazz with side-chained finesse.

🕶️ “All Together Now” – An ensemble jam with collaborative soul.

For listeners seeking:

• A return to groove-driven, feel-good jazz without the clichés.

• Modern production that doesn’t sacrifice live musicianship.

• Music that knows how to chill—but never sits still.

With Lampin’, Synthonic isn’t just making music—they’re making space. Space to breathe, space to groove, space to reflect. And that, in a world spinning too fast, might be the most radical thing of all.

All the Glow: The Sianes’ Radiant Return to What Matters Most

Before there was All The Glow, there were late-night gigs in downtown Toronto bars, there were bluesy breakdowns and folk ballads echoing off brick walls, and there were two artists—each on their own path, unknowingly circling toward one another like stars destined to collide. When Diane Jean Simone and Sean Peever first came together as The Sianes, it wasn’t the start of something—it was the quiet continuation of lifetimes already lived through music.

Their new record, All The Glow, doesn’t shout for your attention. It hums. It asks you to lean in, to listen, to care. It’s an album that rewards those who pay attention—not just to the melodies and lyrics, but to the intention behind it all. From the first track, you sense it: this is not background noise. This is music made with a mission.

And in a world where the line between art and algorithm grows blurrier by the day, that sincerity is magnetic.

The Hero’s Return

For Diane, All The Glow is a kind of homecoming. Once a fixture in Toronto’s R&B, jazz, and blues circuit, her voice was known for its velvet tone and emotional clarity. But after years in the spotlight, she stepped away—not out of disinterest, but out of instinct. “Sometimes,” she once said in an interview, “you need silence to know what you really want to say.”

That silence became her crucible.

She returned not just as a vocalist, but as a songwriter, armed with melodies shaped by lived experience and lyrics etched with personal truths. There’s a quiet gravity in her phrasing now, a wisdom earned and worn proudly. Songs like the title track “All the Glow” and “Leaving’s Just More Kind” sound like letters never sent, finally opened under warm light.

Sean Peever, meanwhile, brings a gentle steadiness that grounds the duo’s sound. Long admired in Ontario’s folk circuit for his lyrical precision and intimate stage presence, his guitar work on All The Glow is intentionally unflashy—it serves the story. He’s the kind of artist who understands that vulnerability carries more power than virtuosity. And together, he and Diane don’t just complement each other; they amplify one another.

A Purpose Beyond the Music

But The Sianes aren’t just making music—they’re making a statement. With All The Glow, they’ve woven environmental awareness directly into the fabric of their artistry. This isn’t “greenwashing” or posturing. It’s personal.

“There’s something sacred about the earth and how we move through it,” Diane explains. “We wanted this album to be a reminder. That we’re still connected. That beauty is responsibility.”

Each purchase, each stream, becomes part of something larger: a community rooted in creative care. It’s a rare kind of transaction—music that gives back. Not just to the artists, but to the earth itself.

Glow, Grit, and Growing Something New

Visually, The Sianes carry their message with calm grace. The album art is minimalist yet radiant, echoing the record’s title. Golden light, blurred landscapes, soft silhouettes—they’re not hiding, but they’re not forcing their image either. Like their sound, their aesthetic feels lived-in and real.

And fans are responding. Not with viral trends or stadium screams, but with thank-you messages, with hand-written notes left after shows, with stories of how a single lyric felt like a lifeline. It’s the kind of audience connection most artists dream of—the kind that can’t be bought, only earned.

The Glow Stays With You

All The Glow may be described as a folk-R&B-jazz blend, but genres don’t do it justice. It’s more like a shared memory. A quiet protest. A slow-burning sunrise after a long, dark night.

For those who feel disillusioned by the churn of today’s music landscape, The Sianes offer something rare: a return to purpose, to craft, to community. And if you listen closely, beneath the harmonies and the poetry, you’ll hear it—the sound of two artists still deeply in love with the world, still hoping their songs might help save a piece of it.

And in that glow, we’re all invited to stand.

Notowns and the Art of Uneasy Grace

Inside the fractured dance of “Vicious Little World”

By the time Notowns emerged with their debut two years ago, their sound already carried the weight of lived-in disillusionment. But it wasn’t defeatist—it pulsed. Raw, rhythmic, and reflective, they positioned themselves not just as musicians, but as documentarians of an emotional undercurrent too slippery for headlines and too electric to ignore. Now, with the arrival of Vicious Little World, Notowns doesn’t just return—they evolve.

This sophomore album doesn’t scream for your attention. It pulls you in with a sly smirk and a syncopated bassline, inviting you to dance inside your own anxiety. That contradiction is central to the band’s identity: beauty wrapped in tension, rhythm laced with resistance. The record captures a mood that’s hard to articulate but instantly familiar—like a late-night walk through neon-lit streets after a day that didn’t quite go as planned.

The Journey: From Urgency to Introspection

If their debut was about exposure—tearing the bandages off societal rot and sonic conformity—Vicious Little World leans into the aftermath. It’s what comes after the scream: the quiet reckoning. Inspired by the sharp edges of post-punk and the body-moving angularity of early Manchester dance floors, Notowns doesn’t just reference the past; they rewire it. The influence of A Certain Ratio’s avant-funk and dub's spatial paranoia is present, but filtered through a present-day malaise. Think less nostalgia, more recontextualization.

And this shift didn’t come easy.

The two-year gap between releases wasn’t just time—it was transformation. Amid the chaos of cultural noise and internal unraveling, the band found clarity by surrendering to complexity. The world around them got louder; Notowns chose to go deeper. Their melodies now feel more open, yes, but they’re also heavier with meaning. Every note feels deliberate. Every lyric scans like a confession spoken under breath.

Between Disillusionment and Desire

Lyrically, Vicious Little World is as biting as it is vulnerable. There’s wit here, but it’s not played for laughs—it’s a survival mechanism. Sarcasm is used the way one uses rhythm in a fight: to distract, to pivot, to land a harder truth. Front-facing guitars slice through dubby textures and funk-inspired grooves like neon reflections on a cracked mirror. It’s not cynical for the sake of cool; it’s observant, uncomfortable, and oddly comforting.

Their audience, growing steadily since the first release, recognizes something essential in this duality. In a time when music is often algorithmically flattened, Notowns makes you feel jagged—in the best way possible. Fans speak of the band’s live shows as cathartic, visceral experiences where tension becomes choreography. There’s a shared exhale in those rooms, a recognition that even if the world is vicious, we’re in it together.

The Human Pulse Beneath the Machine

More than anything, Vicious Little World is a statement of self-possession. It’s music that refuses to be categorized by genre alone, instead carving out emotional and aesthetic space on its own terms. The band’s sonic maturity isn’t about polish—it’s about intention. They’ve built an album that hums with awareness, the kind that only comes from sitting with discomfort long enough to understand its rhythm.

For Notowns, the hero’s journey doesn’t end in triumph. It ends in deeper questions. But somewhere between the irony-soaked lyrics, the off-kilter beats, and the glimmers of melodic hope, a strange thing happens: you start to dance anyway.

And maybe that’s the point.

Recommended Tracks to Begin With:

• "Dead City Disco" – A noir dancefloor anthem with twitchy guitars and a pulse like a skipped heartbeat.

• "Glass Smile" – Vulnerable and biting, like a love song for the end of optimism.

• "Vicious Little World" – The title track is a thesis statement and a warning: seductive, sharp, unforgettable.

Notowns didn’t come to save us.

They came to reflect us—flawed, flickering, and still fighting to find the beat in a world that won’t sit still.

Dev London: The Spell That Won’t Break

There’s a quiet storm brewing out of Manteca, California—a voice drenched in vulnerability, a pen dipped in raw truth, and a soul that refuses to let go. Meet Dev London, a rising artist who turns heartbreak into harmony and emotional chaos into sonic clarity. With the release of his latest single, “Spell On Me”, Dev invites listeners not just to hear his story, but to feel it.

The track, which dropped on April 11, 2025, is more than a breakup anthem—it’s a confession, a tug-of-war between self-respect and romantic obsession. It’s the sound of someone haunted by love’s most seductive and punishing illusions. And for Dev, it’s deeply personal. “One day they want you, the next they don’t,” he shares. “It’s like they’ve put a curse on you, and no matter how hard you try to let go, you keep getting pulled back in.”

The Song as a Mirror

“Spell On Me” glows with the slow burn of 2000s R&B—think Usher in his Confessions era, but with a modern twist and Dev’s unmistakably tender delivery. His vocals, smooth yet cracked with emotion, glide over a hypnotic blend of R&B and pop production, thanks to Fantom Music, who built the track’s rich, textured soundscape. But the real alchemy happened between Dev and London Lawhon, the co-writer whose lyrical honesty helped transform Dev’s lived experience into a universally resonant song.

The recording took place at Prodigy Muzix Studio in Sacramento, where long nights were spent chasing the right emotion, the perfect phrasing, the magic that only appears when vulnerability meets craftsmanship. And that’s exactly what this song offers—magic.

A Hero’s Journey in Melody

Dev’s path hasn’t been overnight. Like many true artists, he began not with fame, but with feeling. Growing up in Manteca, he was surrounded by a soundtrack of soul, gospel, and R&B that would eventually shape his expressive style. But it was heartbreak—the kind that lingers and reshapes you—that pushed him to transform pain into purpose.

Every note of “Spell On Me” represents a stage of the journey: the call to love, the disillusionment, the refusal to let go, and finally, the moment of self-awareness. Even as Dev sings from the depths of emotional conflict, there’s an unmistakable clarity in his voice—a realization that sometimes healing means confronting what keeps you stuck.

More Than a Song—It’s a Connection

What makes Dev London stand out in a crowded industry isn’t just the polish of his sound, but the pulse of his truth. Listeners don’t just hear his heartbreak—they recognize it. Whether it’s the ache of one-sided love, the thrill of fleeting attention, or the toxic comfort of an unresolved relationship, Dev's music doesn’t speak at you—it speaks for you.

And in that space between artist and audience, something rare happens: connection. Dev isn’t trying to be perfect. He’s just being honest. And in today’s world, that might be the boldest move of all.

What’s Next?

With “Spell On Me” already earning early buzz and streaming momentum, Dev London is laying the groundwork for a career that could redefine what it means to be a modern R&B storyteller. He’s not here to follow trends—he’s here to tell stories that matter. And if this single is any indication, he’s only just getting started.

So press play. Feel the spell. And remember the name—Dev London. Because some artists sing about love. But Dev? He sings from inside it.

Under the Blazing Sun, Seema Farswani Finds Her Voice

In a world where identities are often blurred by borders and timelines, Seema Farswani dares to sing hers out loud. With the release of her debut single Under A Blazing Sun, she’s not just stepping into the spotlight—she’s reclaiming it.

It didn’t begin in a glamorous studio or under the direction of some major label. It began, as many real stories do, in the quiet. A voice note. A moment in her Singapore living room when emotion, memory, and melody aligned just enough for Seema to press record. That recording would later travel across continents and cultures to a London studio, where it would bloom into the genre-blending, emotionally rich anthem we hear today.

The Hero’s Journey, Sung in Multilingual Melodies

Seema’s story is not a typical debut. It’s a cross-cultural odyssey wrapped in strings, driven by heart, and polished by fire. Born in Dubai and based in Singapore, her upbringing has always been steeped in movement—of people, of music, of spirit. That movement pulses through Under A Blazing Sun, a pop-rock track tinted with Middle Eastern strings and grounded in the reflective power of an artist discovering herself in sound.

Inspired by the grandeur of Keane’s Somewhere Only We Know and the raw vulnerability of Benson Boone’s Beautiful Things, Seema threads her own narrative through those sonic textures. There’s no mimicry here—only resonance. The cultural inflections she weaves into the instrumentation aren’t adornments; they’re signposts. Each oud string and percussive hit carries the heat of memory, of the streets and skylines of Dubai, and of the sun that once shaped a younger version of herself.

“‘Under A Blazing Sun’ is more than a debut—it’s a reclamation of identity, a celebration of growth, and a sonic love letter to the city that shaped me.”

This isn’t just artistry—it’s authorship.

Soundtracking a Sense of Belonging

The production, while discreetly credited due to NDA constraints, is world-class. Seema’s collaborators brought muscle to her melody, but never at the expense of intimacy. Every section feels hand-stitched to the emotion it carries, from the swelling intro to the wide-open chorus. You can feel the city in it—not just Dubai, but any city where past and present collide in neon-lit nostalgia.

Seema worked closely with the team at City Vocal Coach in London, refining her vocal delivery not into perfection, but into truth. And that shows. Her voice floats, cracks, and surges with the authenticity of someone who’s not singing to be heard, but to feel.

And that, ultimately, is where Seema’s strength lies. She isn’t positioning herself above her audience. She’s beside them. Her voice doesn’t come down from a stage—it emerges from the crowd, from the person next to you who finally found the words you couldn’t.

A Life in Design, a Future in Music

Outside of music, Seema is an interior designer. That might seem like a footnote—until you realize how deeply that sensibility shapes her sound. Her songwriting feels like space-making: she builds rooms for emotion, corners for reflection, windows for longing. Her musical instincts are those of someone who knows that beauty is in both detail and structure.

Now, with Under A Blazing Sun, she makes her first public offering—not just as a vocalist, but as a full-fledged songwriter and producer. It’s a role she steps into not with bravado, but with clarity. This is not just a beginning—it’s the result of everything before it. The languages she speaks, the cities she’s loved, the silence she learned to break.

Lighting the Way Forward

Debuts like these don’t come often—not because there aren’t artists with talent, but because there are so few who can hold complexity with such grace. Under A Blazing Sun feels both massive and personal, like a billboard painted with someone’s diary. It’s a rare blend of world fusion and stadium-sized pop that still leaves room for vulnerability.

Seema Farswani may be new to the scene, but she’s not starting from scratch. She’s starting from soul. From history. From heat.

And if this first single is any indication, she’s just begun to shine.

🎧 Listen to “Under A Blazing Sun” by Seema Farswani on all major platforms.

📍 Out now: Spotify

🌍 Genre: Pop-Rock / World Fusion

🗓 Release Date: May 29, 2025

📝 Written & Produced by Seema Farswani

Eleanor Idlewood’s Secret Love Letter to the Neon Night

Inside “The Roommates” — a queer synthwave daydream, hidden in plain sight.

By the time the first verse of Eleanor Idlewood’s “The Roommates” hums into existence, you’re already somewhere else entirely. Maybe it’s the nostalgic thrum of an '80s tape deck spinning under dim bedroom lights. Maybe it's the hush of secrets passed between lovers through thin apartment walls. Or maybe — just maybe — it’s the rare sensation of hearing a song that knows exactly what it's trying to say without ever needing to say it outright.

This is Eleanor Idlewood’s gift. With her latest single, she doesn’t just write music — she invites us to live inside it.

“The Roommates” is a slow-burn synthwave vignette, all shimmer and shadows, set in a cinematic world soaked in retro glow and playful subtext. It follows Sonny and Flint, two men everyone assumes are just close friends sharing rent — but whose private romance pulses behind the blinds. On the surface, it’s a cheeky nod to that old euphemism queer couples have endured for generations: “They’re just roommates.” But beneath the surface, it’s a radiant, defiant love story.

“I wanted it to feel like a secret love letter hidden inside a vintage cassette,” Eleanor says. “Romantic, a little mischievous, and definitely loud enough for the neighbors to wonder.”

Crafted entirely between February and April 2025 in Eleanor’s home studio in France, the track is the first glimpse into the world of her forthcoming EP — a project that promises to expand the sonic lore of “The Roommates” and eventually bleed into her sophomore full-length album. The production is lush and deliberate: pulsing synths mimic heartbeats, layered pads drift like smoke through a dim-lit club, and vintage drum machines tick forward like time itself, drawing the listener deeper into Eleanor’s universe.

But while the music dazzles on its own, it’s the emotional architecture underneath that gives “The Roommates” its staying power. Eleanor weaves narrative psychology into her compositions, pulling from deeply personal experiences and cultural memory. In the quiet intimacy of Sonny and Flint’s fictional romance, she offers something achingly real: the thrill of recognition, the ache of restraint, the power of finally being seen — even if only by one another.

Eleanor, currently studying music production at Berklee Online, is building more than just tracks; she’s building bridges. Between decades. Between genres. Between what’s said and what’s felt. Her blend of synthwave, dark wave, and ambient soundscaping has already caught attention for its bold vulnerability and cinematic scope. But “The Roommates” signals something new — a turning point toward storytelling that is both more playful and more personal.

Her audience seems to feel that shift, too. Fans have described the single as “like watching a queer indie film through a kaleidoscope,” and “the soundtrack to a secret you don’t want to keep anymore.” Eleanor’s visuals — typically soft-lit, surreal, and gorgeously stylized — reinforce this feeling of a world that’s both familiar and fantastically other.

There’s a quiet radicalism in how Eleanor Idlewood moves through her art. She doesn’t scream rebellion; she whispers it through melodies, letting synths speak truths that words can’t always hold. “The Roommates” isn’t loud with protest — it’s loud with presence. It’s a story of being here, being real, and being in love, even when no one else gets the memo.

And maybe that’s what makes it so powerful. Eleanor isn’t just queering the sound of synthwave — she’s queering the idea of storytelling itself. By centering the margins, romanticizing the unseen, and drenching it all in analog warmth, she creates a universe where Sonny and Flint aren’t hiding anymore.

They're just living. And they're doing it, gloriously, with the volume turned all the way up.