Weirdly enough, we were listening to this ill Zambri track on our iPod this morning and being happy about it. It's so lovely and lush, with a hint of the goth-informed shoegaze that's bleeding into tons of the rock music we're fiending for right now, and it sounded terrific on the N train to the office, all brickass crispy outside. Can't front on the video, either—it's artful and dark without being balls-out cornsteez (note lack of heavy eyeliner) and invokes the yearning of the lyrics' infinite dream of the jilted-but-still-in-love, the wistful hush of the fluttering guitar. Plus it incorporates one of those creepy clear masks, which we, for some reason, associate with serial killers in the 1970s, and maybe the killer is also a magician. (via Spinner)