t all started in a barn on hundreds of acres of rice patties in the heart of the agricultural center of the world. It started when two wrote letters to each other from 1,400 miles away. It started when three sat in a smoky den, where a white coveralled man ignores his patrons and murder covers the wall. It all started with the hearts and minds of five people who are watching their small home town that they love being taken over by part time, minimum wage industry and being filled with too many big fish for such a little sea.

From the Central Californian town of Merced comes El Olio Wolof, invoking majestic kingdoms where Shel Silverstein’s brand of playful poetics meets the ebb and flow of dusky indie rock. Their acoustic-based arrangements are spare: acoustic guitar, electric bass, accordion, jazz-influenced drums, keyboards and bells, but the compositions created with these basic elements seem to breathe and take flight. The soothing voices of the band are our bewitching tour guides, escorting and illuminating us through sweeping tales of terror and wonder.