When I call this "trap music," I'm not making a Young Jeezy reference. McKean's reverberating American goth chordage and placidly telescoping vocals are the heavy shadows where the unseen horrors implied by his too-tranquil twilight scenario lurk, waiting to reveal themselves: "Come, lock the door/Nobody's home/All the windows are closed/All the kids are asleep/Shades are drawn/Something's wrong." As such, McKean is a unique snare listeners will use their illusion in a slightly different way.
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