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.

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