Warm blend of strings, live drums, piano and beautiful voice. Friendship of guitar, saxophone and flute. Cold but sunny day. Lucid dreams. Songs Written by Tamara Lindeman. Night lush. 80s jazz beats. Mild tones dissolve into the snow outside. Heart breaking weather.

“Blood red floods the Atlantic
With a wine in my hand
Laid back in the grass of some stranger’s field
While shearwaters reeled overhead”

“Oh tell me, why can’t I just cover my eyes?“

“Like the wind on the water
I will not help you not to feel
To tell yourself it was not real
And only fools believe
This is what the songs are for
This is the dirt beneath the floor
I cannot sell you on your own need”