Powerkompany's sound is forward-thinking, nostalgic, electric. Davon’s voice cascades like a waterfall one minute and the next punctures eardrums as if Cupid’s arrow to an unsuspecting heart. It is Dolly Parton’s frail warble filtered through Warhol’s Factory, the sound of tiny incandescent angels trapped like butterflies in a moonshine mason jar. On the new record, it's as if the band conjured 1960s Phil Spector, held a gun to his head and demanded he update the Wall of Sound for a new generation.
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