pinkoranges47

Fredericton NB, Canada

Nobody knows where pinkoranges47 came from. Some say its the sound humming inside an abandoned shopping cart at 11:47 a.m. Others insist it crawled out of a broken cassette deck driving a moped made of aluminum foil and expired coupons. Genre? Is that a question? Every track is a postcard from a parallel universe “where disco never died, robot collect calls for Ai prisons, raccoons run the city dump and oranges have emotional support groups for them having Phoenicopterophobia. One song might sound like your brain trying to remember a meal you had in a dream. The next might convince your television set it has feelings. No interviews. No explanations. Only suspiciously catchy frequencies and a growing number of “pigeons that seem to know all the lyrics”. If you understand what’s happening, you probably don’t. Welcome to the weird! -Pink Oranges 47