BrainTwins make videos for music the way my brain and fingers, despite constant failure, still insist on wanting to write about music. Recall their offerings with Sunset Pig, with Ben Traub, and with Chicago Bulls Hat. All of them simple, psychedelic, convulsive, and somehow capable of cranking out audio-visual parity like it's air out of a lung, and all of them cobbled little essays on the way it feels to step inside of a song, stand there for a minute running fingers along the ceiling and walls, and then step out the other side, shuffled. I like it and I admire it and I can't quite do it.

And then Greg Lindberg (a.k.a. Teen Brigade), when he's not jamming at The Spot, spends pretty much every waking hour constructing bedroom sounds into constantly refreshing sound stacks. And it comes across like he breathes it, too. Me, I spent four hours on a two-minute snippet that I ended up discarding. On this track, and on the mega-album it comes from Popular Anxieties & A Life Worth Living, Lindberg either makes his improvs sound structured or his structures sound improvised. I'm not sure which, but it sounds like both at the same time. Forgive the contradiction and the lack of clarity; I'm trying to write like how a BrainTwins video looks again.

Anyway, Teen Brigade and BrainTwins must've met in some layer of heaven because they way the colors morph and spin up in here flow in and out of the skitter stop-and-start of the track's drum feel. I keep on almost seeing faces, and the faster I blink the more they seem to leap out at me. But it's all swirl, I think, and I'm riding a train called pareidolia.

Stretched analogy time: Teen Brigade trades in audio pareidolia where the illusion you hear is pop music. Think about that while you blink your eyes as fast as you can with this video fullscreened. I think you'll get somewhere eventually.