It's the summer of 2017. I'm in the backseat of a dinky blue Saturn SUV, the windows are down, and the balmy Carolina air sweeps lovingly across my cheeks and creeps up under the sweaty bandanna pushing back my kinky, dark curls. Grant - one of his gangly, pale, freckled arms hanging bent out of the driver's window - is enjoying the breeze just as contently. His hair is long and luscious and beautiful, and the dying sun paint his round, Lennon-esque glasses in streaks of blushing gold and warm sepia. Beside him in the passenger seat, Anton - broad-shouldered and kind-faced, his lips skewed in appreciation - is bopping along to the twanging guitar and rasp swelling and receding from the dusty radio like ocean waves. Ventura Highway , the voices coo, in the sunshine... where the days are longer, the nights are stronger than moonshine... We're on a winding backroad - of which Huntersville seems primarily composed - and it feels like we'll be young foreve...
A Life's Discography in Albums, EPs and Singles