The Shawnee Mission East class of '08 loves its gay homecoming king.
Women loved Zachary Coleman. And he loved their money.
Everybody thinks Jeff Swanson is somebody famous. And he does nothing to dissuade them of the notion.
Autoimmune's 14 tracks play out as a sort of unofficial stylistic greatest hits. Visceral, almost-queasy bass distends; decaying oscillations ricochet from syncopated percussion; and gargled vocal samples percolate in a deceivingly entrenched yet trenchant midrange strafed by flanged tones. Dangers both serrates and salves within the same track, working his spooked parlance with the assurance of a veteran orator. The accent(s) may be familiar, but Dangers still has much to say.