Twenty Twenty

Gone From My Sight

Quinn Raymond and Keith Watts craft tracks that are a bit too uneasy for the dancefloor, yet too dynamic to just sit still and listen to. It’s an intriguing combination for unsettling times.”


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Named after the little blue how-to book that hospices give to the dying, Gone From My Sight is a band that is equally happy making you cry or dance. It’s all moot: everything is temporary anyway. 


After failing for years as producers and studio musicians for other artists (ranging in breadth from Destiny’s Child to the Shivers), our anti-heroes finally decided to do something proper with the remains. Their new album Twenty Twenty’s schizophrenic indie rock and electronic sound (maybe LCD Soundsystem vs. DJ Shadow? Wilco getting their jewels run? Bruce Springsteen eating a drum machine live on a college radio station? The Postal Service (not the band)? 


Basically, it’s lo-fi indie synth rock with hand claps and an 808, and a very sad, paranoid voice wondering why we’re all here, where we’re going after, and if it even matters. The kick drums thud slowly but loudly like beating hearts, and of course inevitably fade out.  


You can break up to this music, ride out an anxiety attack,  slow dance at an 80s prom, or maybe draft a resignation letter. Whatever you do, you’ll finally feel something. For a little while. Then it will go away. 


Gone From My Sight's Twenty Twenty finally answers the question: can two nihilists make you smile?  


(probably not)