Every so often, an album comes to you, out of nowhere, and you decide to listen to it. A friend didn't recommend it, you don't know anyone in the band, you've never even heard of the band, you opened up a promo email to check out a different band... whatever the case, it was nothing more than a desire to try something new, nothing deeper. And so you throw it on in the background while you drink your coffee and play with your dog. And you're focusing on your dog, and playing fetch in your apartment, but you keep getting distracted by this music you've put on. So after you tire your puppy out, you get another cup of coffee and sit down to properly listen to the music, this mysterious album that took you off your fetch A-game. And what you discover is something like nothing you've really heard before, something with familiar pieces but a fuzzed out, unknown whole. Something like if Bon Iver decided to make a Red Fang album (Stoned Iver?), or Sufjan Stevens put his energy into distortion pedals instead of quirky, paragraph-long song titles. What you've discovered is Lightsabres, the one man project of J. Strömshed from Sweden, and his album Hibernation.
