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"There must be something in the air..."
Sam Roberts sings these words just before the first song on his first full-length album fades out into ether, conjuring that moment you experience every night in bed when your conscience shuts down in anticipation of the dreamlike delights to come. Sam Roberts may call Montreal home, but his music occupies a less definable space: the place between studious intellect and gut reaction; between psychedelic transcendence and the cold, hard truth; between fist-pumped, hockey-lovin' hellraising and melancholic vulnerability. Or, in Sam's universe, it's the place where Rue St-Laurent intersects with Abbey Road.
"There's no road that ain't a hard ..
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