Beijing’s Backspace engrosses on their sophomore release which takes the band’s paranoid-laced psych rock and turns it outwards, binding us together through our most primal feelings.
Cultivating the beauty within the chaos and embedded with an all-embracing empathy of the actions of both the humans and creatures that roam our planet – the unassuming six-eyed dragonfly, the patient desert lizard, the droning ants, the frenzied rabbit – the band strikes a chord that’s playful, invigorating, and filled with both wonder, urgency, and sly dissonance.
A cacophony of sounds bombards the senses and needle their way into our brain tissue as tropical birds call across the trees, dogs furiously bark in the background, synths buoyantly led us from one verse to another, and the swirl of guitars and drums throw listeners into a trance.
It’s the equivalent of dancing around a bonfire in the embrace of a humid, moon-lit jungle, high on the shared communal experience of music.
