The war paint on his face is needed more for his own personal ghosts, than the armies of children that dance around the park, hanging from jungle gyms and flying down slides. There is a good chance that his painted

We’d place him in the box of ‘experimental folk’ but even that seems silly. This is an experiment in something, but maybe it’s not folk, maybe it something bigger than that. A boy, alone, singing without all the bells and

Nicholas Doubleyou performs with the kind of fervent urgency that can make you feel unsettled, like he may be on the very of tears, or on the verge of something ingenius, so you sit around and wait long enough to