It’d be easy to introduce you to Silverbird by making a few “artist X meets artist Y” comparisons. It’d be easy to gloss over their sound and focus on the pretty stellar career of front man Tim Barr. It’d be easy to take a few dabs and wax poetic about what their music, like, really means, man.

But fuck that. None of that gets to the heart of what Silverbird’s about. None of that explains why you need to give them a listen.

In other words, that stuff is soulless and repulsive. Let’s get real here for one minute.

Silverbird’s the bastard child of a generation raised on Nintendo and John Cusack movies. They’re the musical equivalent of the high school afternoons you spent driving around in your friends beat up Volvo and smoking Parliament Lights. They make music to get stoned and have an existential crisis to.

Lest that sound too dire, Silverbird’s also the type of band you’ll want tenderly serenading your earholes as you go drinking after work and again the next morning when you wake up hung over with a warm body next to you.

Made up of Corey Davis, Dan Whaley, Jacob Schaub, and Tim Barr, Silverbird’s the next big thing we haven’t even realized we need yet. Does that make sense? Whatever, you know what we mean.

Tim cut his teeth opening for The Blow, playing with Dizzy Gillespie’s pianist Mike Longo, and being part of Lana Del Rey’s band. If that’s not a musical pedigree then what is?

Tim hooked up with acclaimed producer Kristopher Harris and Silverbird was born. Almost immediately, he released the EP Surface Life in 2014. Then began the rounds of sold out club shows in New York City.

He needed a band and grabbed Corey, Dan, and Jacob. They soon found that together they were much more than the sum of their parts. So, like all great and hungry musicians, they hit the studio and recorded Pureland.

Released in 2015, Pureland’s both the culmination and the start of something one-of-a-ind. Sometimes it punches you in the face with melodic energy and other times it rubs your back after a long day. Sometimes it grabs your hand and takes you on an unforgettable night-turned-morning adventure and other times it puts on a good noir flick and cuddles up with the popcorn.

Pureland manages to both bristle with energy and quietly reflect on what living in the post-Tinder world is like.

So, to sum things up because we know you’re busy and who the hell reads band bios anyway, Silverbird’s the sonic equivalent of a ghost fighting its way back into the realm of the living.