THIS IS WHAT YOU DO NOT DO when sending your album to media outlets.
Creativity is appreciated. Kithkin sent me leaves and rocks. Speaker Speaker once sent me jellybeans. But this motherfucker right here was sealed in eight layers of tape, meaning I had to spend minutes tearing through women doing stupid poses in their panties in order to open the package. Strike one. Then, inside, the short note taped to the front of the CD spelled my name wrong. Megen. Strike two.
I like bands with a sense of humor. I like getting weird shit in the mail. But I don't want to have to tear through Victoria's Secret models and clippings from an old GQ in order to hear your music. Is that really the first impression you want to make?
The music wasn't my thing. It sounded like singer/songwriter stuff that would've been used on Dawson's Creek back in the ’90s. Strike three. You're out.