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Dandelion Massacre. Old-timey, but no dueling banjo solos or warm heavenly vocal harmonies here, just crusty bubble-gum American garage folk that pulls your ears in for a listen just to be clogged by a crust from the underlins that forms from not showering very often. Contradiction. Life's balancing act. Prior to the germination of Dandelion Massacre, its members' musical pasts were born in punk, dabbled in metal, turned to "indie", then wandered over to grandpa's and got lost in his old records.