Formed in the depths of Mordor, in the belly of Mount Doom, Tyger that Sleeps is one band to rule them all. Catchy melodies and gloomy soundscapes combine to sink listeners to new levels of depression but then subtly bring them back to the surface. Brad Wik and Jake Becker are ready to take the folk world by storm.

In a sense, it was nothing short of sublime. It began with the benediction of a simple town. A town so plain as to offend the eyes of those seeking the simple pleasure of passing through. It was the
paludal land that drew the only visitors: transient
creatures of flight. Would perhaps a pipit or a
lovely lark grace this wretched town and bring its
beautiful song to it? No. Maybe it was the
prevalence of pestilence that kept them away. No one knows. But no birds of that nature would be found there.

Maybe it was the dread of destitution that drove them from this wicked place. Nonetheless, they left with little to be grateful for other than their experiences and their volition. The rakehell characters combined with the na--vete of the narration forms the core of their tales of lost love and fear of eternal melancholy. Temporal distractions keep their minds at peace as they prepare to venture over lands oft-traveled. Their sadness in song is in reality a contradiction as the writing and performing of said songs creates a rapturous feeling for them. Oh yeah, Jake loves tamaracks.