FADER PREMIERE
Listening to Gainesville, FL fun-electronic producer Tristan Whitehill’s album Dance District, I'm thinking a lot about crabs. Like, imagining an underwater nightclub, just 20 feet or so off the beach, where the crabs hang out every night from 9PM to 9AM—the tracks "Dance District DNA" and "Honey Fortress" evoke this, somehow—playing crab video poker and flirting and wearing sunglasses indoors. When the morning sun is sufficiently high, and the first human beach-goers have begun to lay, their plump toes wiggling in the warm air, and the crab bartender yells "closing time," the crabs drunkenly skitter en masse onto dry land—"Glow Flute" and "Tetrasporangia" are both good here—cursing and farting as they go, errantly pinching toes on the search for something they can stand to do sober. Dance District is out right now via cassette kings MJMJ both digitally and in a limited run of tapes, with art by Senta Achee.
Stream: Euglossine's Dance District
