It’s the type of music where you don’t know what’s next. But at the same time, you’ve known all along.
A trio hell-bent on a lack of commitment to convention has spewed up the trippy-arty Dos Enos.
You’ll take your clothes off. Not once, but dos.
As you set adrift in an electric-bluesy junkyard, tickling your pink bits like a prehistoric primate.
There has to be more than one monkey on the moon.
Experience Unwin, in his very own odyssey, like Goliath at the peak of a mountain range in some boundless galaxy.
Inhale Hannaford as he arouses the keys, fondling each note like a gypsy maiden, mastering a volatile yet stable oasis.
And feel your mind multiply with the nexus of percussion and vocals from Winkler, banged together like a beast on acid.
The trio, Dos Enos have mavericked their own dirty-noise latte, so take some sips, add some cinnamon and consign yourself to oblivion.