The Witner Twins
...don't know who they are, not
really. Minnesota? Aunt Dee? That Dumpster-diving night behind Foodtown in the
February of Plainview, an equatorial oasis compared to their "home"?
No one can prove they exist. The tenuous exhibit "A": a scattering of
tapes, acoustical in nature, awash in wine and, yes, brother(?)ly love. Frank
and Dale. You don't know them, but you will think you do when they lilt away at
the lovely of "Stephanie Says" or moan in the spare swaying stutter
of "Smother Me." They cover The Martyrs (as all bands should),
not to mention others such as (unmentioned) with the tenderness of your
favorite scratchy blankie.
The Witner Twins. Call them Frank and Dale. You don't know them. But they know you.
Yes, They played for tea and cheesecake at a little coffeehouse in South Carolina. Yes, the audience, often recovering drug addicts and alcoholics (who the hell else spends a Friday night out at a beanery?), were entreated to their smooth melodies and rough chord changes, their bittersweet love songs, their cynical realism. Many a lyric triggered a latte spit-take (coincidentally, a pseudonym the duo often performed under), and one chorus was always sure to disrupt an intense backgammon match.
But still, they played on, often to a
crowd of 10-12, and a baker's dozen if it was cold outside!
All material herein © 1998-2001 Big Casserole Records/Maxrat. All rights reserved.