Opposing Suns is one of those bands that makes you optimistic for the future. Progressive songwriting explores utopian ideas while finagling the electrical force of their music like a photographer finagles the light in their composition. Opposing Suns is: dark meets light, soul meets sound, Atlanta meets SoCal.
Acoustic guitar slides “Security” onto the radar of the listener’s consciousness, so one can be completely present for Clint Bussey’s voice. “But when the lights go out / When the lights go out / What will you do then?” questions Clint, accompanied by the heavy flickering of electric guitar. Logically, more juice means harder rock. The vocals are belted, and evoke images of rock stars who speak graciously with accents and wear flamboyant clothing when the occasion strikes. (At this point, velvet seem like a perfectly fine textile for clothing, although I cannot shake George Costanza’s desire to “drape” himself in the stuff.) The lyrics are delivered like a pep talk to oneself in a dirty bathroom, which is somehow appropriate; it is intimate and emotionally gritty and you’re not sure if the air freshener is helping or contributing to the odor permeating the air. It is a poignant song.
The band played a show in Atlanta last week. I can only assume that they have since been stargazing through a rad telescope, searching for the perfect vacation spot. The next time Opposing Suns swings through Charlotte, I’m bringing my ears.