Basements hung with fairy lights, '60s tape reels spinning antique spools, drums dusted with white powder. Gritty riffs and psych rock washes slither beneath airy, blissed-blank Nico vocals spinning spectral tales of shattered romance.
A beautifully ruined pair - he a leather-clad glowering guitar phantom, she, a glacial, broken bombshell - blow glitter at each other through the flashes from old cameras.