Sleepy Sun

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Sleepy Sun – “New Age”

MySpace/Website

Sleepy Sun is an apt title for this young San Francisco sextet, as their debut record, Embrace, is one of those rare slabs of rock and roll that will wake you up in the morning, and send you off to sleep at night. After honing their craft in the occult influenced creative community of Santa Cruz, the band has continued to grow, both creatively and in their loyal following, since their relocation to the city by the bay. With their throbbing rhythm section, swirling sea of guitars, and dreamy, haunting duet vocals, the word dynamic is a severe understatement.

Though the press is quick to rifle off a laundry list of rock’s greatest ghosts to describe their sound, one live show is all you need to know Sleepy Sun have stumbled upon something very much their own. Having performed their raw, high energy show on stages shared with acts such as Howlin’ Rain, Earth, Dead Meadow, and Citay, they are quickly establishing themselves as a very tough act to follow. Fans at shows are known for shouting the band’s battle cry, “Let’s get weird”. If the group continues down their rapid road to success, things are about to get very weird indeed.

“This San Francisco sextet are like a history-detective version of Wilco, juggling an amalgam of dynamics: rumbling garage metal, iridescent-meadow country rock, bargain-synth whoop, the pensive-ballad Pink Floyd.” (Rolling Stone)

“Their long hair, nature-kid press photos and onstage face paint seemingly align Sleepy Sun with San Fran’s tie-dyed tradition, but the band’s palette is actually smeared with a whole lotta Blacks: Sabbath, Mountain (whose producer, Colin Stewart, works the boards here), Angels and– when singer Bret Constantino busts out a boogie-summoning wail on “Snow Goddess”– even the Crowes…[T]he surprisingly affecting piano-based spiritual “Lord”, shows the group has designs on writing songs that still move you after the drugs wear off, and that Constantino can be the sort of emotionally assertive vocalist who doesn’t always have to hide behind the haze.” (Pitchfork)