There's something that seems so insanely easy about what The Submarines do. Listening to the neat and tidy bits of indie pop the husband and wife duo crank out, it's possible to imagine John Dragonetti and Blake Hazard's songs spawning from the most casual inspirations; a spontaneous, melodic passage whistled over morning coffee perhaps, or a simple sentiment scribbled on a napkin. As the morning ticks along, the idea gets pollinated just a bit more, and by lunch time, the tastiest of pop nuggets has bloomed. I can see it now, all happening in the most 'ho hum' kind of way. It's nothing really. It's just what The Submarines do.
Of course it's an illusion...my ill-informed imagination running all too wild, high on the band's breezy, head catching creations. In reality, The Submarines, like most bands in their position, have worked their tails off (trips to Austin and Paris for professional inspiration), all while persevering through the kind of difficulties that plague almost every relationship at some point (break-ups, reconciliations, all that). So if the songs that inhabit this concert performance sound effortless, well...consider it the band's great reward for a job well done. Music this cool, this comfortable, this downright charming is always the result of a long road traveled. Enjoying it, however, is a cinch.
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