With a full length and 12" under their belt, Ladyhawk took up residence in an abandoned farm house behind the shopping mall in the band's childhood hometown of Kelowna, British Columbia, armed only with recording gear, sangria and a piss pot. Two weeks later "Shots" was born. It is an album filled with the cold creaking and ghostly echoes of the old house in the dead of winter. Like a party for the last house standing in a sea of strip malls and condos, surely near the end of its time. "Shots" is the sound of Ladyhawk getting loose, turning up loud, downing a few more and howling at the moon. It evokes the devilish sounds of Goats Head Soup guitars, the honey-slides and howling of Neil Young in his darkest hours, and the phantoms that haunted Roky Erickson at the Holiday Inn.

Experts at bottling the misty mountain ghostly blues offered on their self titled debut, it should be clear, this is not classic rock; this is not southern rock. "Shots" is a step forward toward someplace your compass doesn't point.

Lake is a group of cloudy individuals brought together through lines drawn along Interstate-5, intersecting in olympia on or around 2005. Since forming, they have both gained and lost members, recorded 12 full length albums (only 3 of which have seen proper release), played across the world supporting such talented acts as Adrian Orange and Her Band, Half Handed Cloud, Laura Veirs, and Bonnie 'Prince' Billy. The sounds they craft are straight from the playbook of the good parts of Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac, and Turkish psychedelic music. Caressing the Rhodes piano, endearing drum fills, guitars that dont sound like guitars, and some slamming bass lines: Listening to LAKE is like pouring sugar in your ears. They'll turn your brain into chocolate, 67% cacao.