If the haunted sound of the White Fence self-titled wasn’t mysterious enough, check out this little bit of urban indie pop folk lore:

So this buddy of mine close to White Fence in LA was playing “go-between” for the band and some smarmy set of fast talking Capitol A & R reps. There was a meeting, merriment, slaps on the back and the obligatory “you’re in good hands” show of obsequious cradling gestures. The tape was played to a few other talent tasters sporting the Miata midlife crisis ponytail-combover who were interested but demanded 360 package details in turn for a draconian publishing rights deal. A Pitchfork reviewer scout got the tweet about the leak and rolled up to 1740 Vine Street in vain hopes to be the first to deduce the latest White Fence offering with acute decimal deconstructionism.

But he was too late, the “go-between” was being escorted down a hallway before being handed over to two bouncer looking dudes who shoved him into a waiting limo. The limo drove out somewhere in the middle of Joshua Tree National Forest with the chauffer playing “Lillian” on a loop the entire time. The middle man was left for dead surrounded by trippy Joshua Trees and haunted by a hallucinated vision of Gram Parsons brought on by the lack of hydration. Then a mirage of Phil Kauffman pulled up in a Day-Glo hearse and said, “Hey man, you need a ride or something…man?”

After some 12 hours of delirious rants and 24 Miller Drafts later, they were in the Bay Area. Phil tipped his hat, leaving the man circa Market and 5th Street. While the big label goons stole my buddy’s wallet, in his pocket he found the fabled cassette with a label sticker that read “Lillian.” The sound echoes what a fuzzier Gene Clark style of pop would have sounded like during a performance on the Big T.N.T. Show or the way all the great American rockers sounded when performing on the Top of the Pops in the late 60s. This here is the sound of tomorrow’s White Fence.

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