Graham Wright – Traps

The same patience he showed while waiting for the rain to break in his borrowed yellow rain slick. But contrasts like the raincoat against the wet green leaves and soggy grass seem fitting for a man whose day job sees him working the main stage as one quarter of Tokyo Police Club. But such is the beauty of Bellwoods isn’t it? No television, no electrical outlets, no internet and certainly no advertisements — just storytellers conjugating in mosquito-ridden grass waiting for their chance to speak up. “Traps” hums along like a one-sided conversation, filled with questions and punctuated with Dylanesque imagery.

words by andrew seale
grahamwright.ca