Walking the line between intimate bedroom pop and an arena anthem, ‘Scar’ marks the beginning of the band’s most ambitious chapter to date.

Scar

After the debut release of the ‘COLOR PANIC’ EP, which even had some success on Soundcloud where we are more permanent, the moment has arrived... the big moment of the release of the album ‘...and By The Way!’ by the brothers Ava Brown and Oliver Brown. A very original duo with some very catchy Indie Art Pop Minimal themes. Get to know the album first hand. It will be available worldwide, 22 April.
Support the Artists.
Best regards.
The Synthwave Electroclash Club

...and by the Way!

Oink Zebra - Free Again

"Lonely Age"

Drifting through life, full of vacant replies
Wandering lost, like a motherless child
Not a word to say, in this lonely age
Wanna look away, go back to sleep
Accept defeat, flee in retreat, disguised

Once I could say, I was willing to try
Seeking the source, for a meaningful life
Now I pretend, just to claim I belong
Safely in step, with the vacuous throngs

Heaven knows I’d never make it
So pathetic that I ever tried to fake it
Graduate of voluntary mind-enslavement
Flew the coop and joined the troops,
A simple sleuth
Reporting from the lonely age now

Not a word to say, in this lonely age
Try to look away and, go back to sleep
Admit defeat, flee in retreat, disguised

Caught in a lie, that I’d gladly concede
Choosing a side, isn’t easy for me

Cause heaven knows I’d never make it
So pathetic that I ever tried to fake it
Graduate of voluntary mind-enslavement
Threw the coup, negotiated truth’s abatement

(Patrick Bateman)

And heaven knows we’d never make it
So pathetic that we ever tried to fake it
Graduates of voluntary mind-enslavement
Flew the coop, and joined the troops
Still put to use, consulting for the lonely age now

Written by Christian Carpenter and Derek Barber
Recorded by Robert Shelton at Tiny Telephone in Oakland, CA
Mixed by Jake Aron
Mastered by Bijan Sharifi 

Christian Carpenter: Vocals, Electric Bass, OBX, Dx7, Drum Machine Programming, Eventide H910 live effects processing
Anthony Ferraro: ARP 2600, Hammond B3 Organ, Studiologic Sledge 
Derek Barber: Slide Electric Guitar
Mark Clifford: Vibraphones
Andrew Maguire: Bongos, Shaker
Geneva Harrison: Drums

Nihilist funk indie groover with insightful, precise lyrics, hooky choruses, and crafty word-play.

Lonely Age

WHITE PONY

the meaning of life is as follows.....try really hard at whatever it is you want to do and then die

That's What People Do

Indie Pop, Dream Pop, Hypnagogic Pop, Neo- Psychedelica, Indie Rock, Indie, Alternative

judy jugendstil (green eye)

"Laniakea" traces the vast gravitational highway that binds our local universe — not as something distant, but as a living presence. It's a meditation on the cosmic web that holds galaxies in its flow, where dark matter moves unseen and ancient forces shape eternity. A song for those who feel the pull of the great unknown, and dare to follow it.

Threads of light

Laniakea

In the cosmos

Everyone remembers
their seventeens.
But wow—
when I was sixteen,
I could tell you stories
you’d never believe.

The world was new,
and I could never
forget the smell
of your perfume.

Uniforms off,
and afternoon teas.
How could I forget
that delicious sour cream?

Your brothers fighting,
we were underneath the sheets.
I can’t bear
that it’s just a memory—
not our reality.

Your mom’s laugh was loud,
and I was happy just being around.
Your grandma never liked me,
but I’m glad we got to meet.
I’m grateful I met Lita,
and that she always asked about me.

Now it feels like a dream,
like a life I watched on TV.

I still hum that song
you played on repeat—
some indie band
with sad guitar beats.

Time didn’t warn us
it was running out.
We were too busy
making plans we’d never carry out.

Now I wake up sometimes
with your name in my mouth,
and wonder if somewhere,
you’re dreaming me now.

Everyone’s lost in
seventeen dreams—
mine started
when I was just sixteen.

making promises
we never meant to keep.

sour

Mean Time

NOT WELCOME

Just a project born from a storm of thoughts that were never meant to be heard. 

No names. No faces. Just frequencies wrapped in memories.

sour

red unicorn